STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 



n 



STUDIES IN 
PSYCHOANALYSIS 



AN ACCOUNT OF TWENTY-SEVEN CONCRETE 
CASES PRECEDED BY A THEORETICAL EXPOSI- 
TION. COMPRISING LECTURES DELIVERED IN 
OFMFVA AT THE JEAN JACQUES ROUSSEAU 
INSTITUTE AND AT THE FACULTY OF LET- 
TERS IN THE UNIVERSITY 



BY 

CHARLES BAUDOUIN 

Author of Suggestion and Autosuggestion, etc., tie. 
TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH BY 

EDEN AND CEDAR PAUL 




NEW YORK 

DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY 

1922 



t^v 



3V 



Fin^ 



•^ 






COPTEIGHT, 1922, 
By DODD, mead AND COMPANY, INC. 



%4 



.0, 



PRINTED IN THE U. S. A. BY 

Wit ®uinn & iBolien Company 

BOOK MANUFACTURERS 
RAHWAY NEW JERSEY 

DEC -7 m'l 



TO 

PIERRE BOVET & EDOUARD CLAPAREDE 



OF GENEVA UNIVERSITY 

AS A TOKEN OF ADMIRATION, FRIENDSHIP, 

AND GRATITUDE 



To explore the unconscious, to dig into the subsoil of the 
mind by specially designed methods, such will be the main 
task of psychology during the twentieth century. I am 
confident that this will lead to great discoveries, no less 
important, perhaps, than those made during the nineteenth 
century in the realms of physical science and natural his- 
tory. — Henri Bergson, 1901. 

By stressing the dynamic aspect of subconscious phe- 
nomena, psychoanalysis becomes a vivifying ferment for 
psychology. Experimental psychology, while devoting it- 
self to elucidating the machinery of mental processes, has 
almost entirely forgotten the study of the causes that set 
this machinery in motion. Psychoanalysis aims at discov- 
ering and describing these hidden springs. The work of 
Sigmund Freud, through the novelty of the ideas it sug- 
gests, and through its fertilising influence, has become one 
of the most important events in the whole history of the 
science of the mind. — Edouard Claparede, 1920. 



TRANSLATORS' PREFACE 

Psychoanalysis is tersely defined by Edward Jones 
as ^^the study of unconscious mentation'' (Papers on 
Psychoanalysis, p. 2). Crichton Miller writes (The 
New Psychology and the Teacher, p. 135) : **The aim 
of psychoanalysis ... is to reveal to the individual, 
from Ms own experience, the unconscious motive that 
is at work in producing his neuroses." Charles 
Baudouin, we think, would accept both the definition 
and the statement of aim; but he would certainly 
stress the view that psychoanalysis has to deal with 
the normal more than with the pathological, that it 
is to be looked upon as a method of re-education 
rather than as a curative method. He takes, of 
course, the same view of autosuggestion. His desire 
is to coordinate the essentials of intuitionism (the 
Bergsonian doctrine considered apart from all meta- 
physics), the teachings of the New Nancy School, 
and the theories of psychoanalysis, as contributions 
to educational science, psychology, and philosophy. 
The present volume, therefore, consists of studies in 
psychoanalysis from this outlook, though incident- 
ally we find in it valuable therapeutic applications 
of the study of subconscious mentation. 

We begin this preface by defining psychoanalysis, 
because it is a term which has hardly found its way 
into the most modern dictionaries, and because it is 



viii TRANSLATORS' PREFACE 

one used by many persons who have no more than 
the vaguest idea of its meaning. Before going on 
to a brief account of the analytic m^ethod, we wish 
to say a few words concerning the unconscious — or, 
as Baudouin prefers to call it, the subconscious. 
Even to-day there are many facile critics ready to 
say that you cannot study unconscious mentation 
because you cannot study a contradiction in terms 
or a non-existent entity. Nevertheless the subcon- 
scious is just as **reaP' as any other intangible 
entity we have to postulate for the intelligible pre- 
sentation of experience. Bertrand Eussell shows in 
The Analysis of Mind that the concept ^* conscious- 
ness" is itself less simple and obvious than most 
people are apt to imagine. Certainly to those who 
read Baudouin 's book with an open mind it will 
soon become apparent that the inferential datum, 
subconscious, is no less real than the immediate 
datum, consciousness. Let us put the matter in the 
more concrete phrases of ^* behaviourist'' psy- 
chology. A great deal of human behaviour remains 
incomprehensible so long as we try to explain it as 
the outcome of the consciousness of which the doer 
is aware. Yet it becomes perfectly comprehensible 
when we realise that it is the outcome of something 
closely akin to consciousness, but of which the doer 
is unaware. This something-akin-to-consciousness- 
of -which -the-doer-is-unaware-and-which-determines- 
behaviour, determines also thoughts and feelings, 
including the thoughts and feelings both of health 
and of disease. For short, we call it the subcon- 
scious or the unconscious. 



TRANSLATORS' PREFACE ix 

Whilst the individual unconscious is anathema to 
many, the ^* collective unconscious'' of the school of 
Jung is itself anathema to analysts of the school of 
Freud, who regard the later developments of Jung's 
teaching as the aberrations of a mystic. Even 
Baudouin, who uses the term, is careful in most in- 
stances to enclose it in inverted commas. Objectors 
have unquestionable warrant for maintaining that 
there is no such thing as a collective unconscious, any 
more than strictly speaking there is a ^ ^ collective con- 
sciousness," or any more than there can be a **mass 
of suffering. ' ' We are individuals, and each one of 
us thinks and suffers alone. But we are likewise 
gregarious beings, and this fact may plausibly be 
considered to endow the '* collective unconscious" 
with a conceptual reality, though at a more abstract 
remove than the individual unconscious. Thus, just 
as the term *^ collective consciousness" is used, with 
no mystical significance whatever, to denote a con- 
sciousness which is supposed to be practically iden- 
tical in a very large number of minds, so the term 
** collective unconscious" is applied to unconscious 
mentation of the same character. But the idea of 
the ^* collective unconscious" does not play any con- 
siderable part in Baudouin 's studies. He is mainly 
concerned with the investigation of the individual 
unconscious. Two-thirds of his book consist of an 
account of twenty-seven concrete cases examined by 
the analytic method. 

Baudouin *s procedure for the study of subcon- 
scious mentation does not differ from that of the 



X TRANSLATORS' PREFACE 

Freudian school of psychoanalysts. But he leaves 
his readers to infer the details. Moreover, in this 
country at any rate, such hazy ideas still prevail as 
to the nature of the analytic method that a brief ex- 
position of its details seems appropriate. 

With Baudouin, as with Freud, the interpretation 
of dreams provides the most important clue to the 
working of the unconscious. Of great importance, 
too, is the analysis and interpretation of day-dreams 
(cf. Varendonck, The Ps^cJiologT/ of D ay-Dreams). 
In Baudouin ^s terminology, the common element in 
dreams and day-dreams is to be found in the ^* out- 
cropping of the subconscious" (see Suggestion and 
Autosuggestion, Part II, Chapters Two and Three). 
Eeminiscences, especially reminiscences of childhood, 
have also to be dealt with; these reminiscences often 
seem trivial, but the significant point is apt to be 
this — that among the myriads of trivial experiences, 
certain trivialities are remembered. Of great, per- 
haps of equal significance, is the ^* remembrance" 
of pseudo-reminiscences, the existence of ** memo- 
ries" which seem real to the subject's consciousness 
until their veridical reality is dispelled by the work 
of psychoanalysis. 

Dreams, of course, are to a great extent symbolic, 
and in this connection Freud remarks (Introductory 
Lectures on Psychoanalysis^ p. 157) that it is a per- 
nicious error to ^* think that the translating of the 
symbols is the ideal method of interpretation and 
that you would like to discard that of free associa- 
tion." The analysis has to be pursued by asking 
the subject for associations to the main items in the 



TRANSLATORS' PREFACE xi 

dream, the day-dream, or the reminiscence (see 
Glossary, association, etc.). Every dream, perhaps 
every day-dream and every reminiscence, has, or 
may have, a latent content as well as a manifest con- 
tent. The latent content is what the analyst has to 
discover if he is to * interpret" the dream, and thns 
to make the subject aware of the trends of his own 
unconscious. To quote Freud once more (op. cit., 
p. 143): '^You will make use of the two comple- 
mentary methods: you will call up the dreamer's 
associations till you have penetrated from the sub- 
stitute to the thought proper for which it stands; 
and you will supply the meaning of the symbols 
from you own knowledge. ' ' 

One point of the utmost importance in the tech- 
nique is the condition of the subject when the analyst 
is demanding associations. Freud writes (op. cit., 
p. 88) : ^^When I ask a man to say what comes to 
his mind about any given element in a dream, I re- 
quire him to give himself up to the process of free 
association which follows when he keeps in mind 
the original idea. This necessitates a peculiar atti- 
tude of the attention, something quite different from 
reflection, indeed, precluding it. ' ' The reader should 
note that this is only another way of describing 
what Baudouin terms ^ ^ contention, " i.e., ^*the psy- 
chological equivalent of attention, minus effort." It 
is also akin to *^ spontaneous attention" (interest) 
as contrasted with ** reflective attention." But, qua 
contention, it is, according to Baudouin, preemi- 
nently the state of mind requisite for the ^* outcrop- 
ping of the subconscious" (see Glossary). 



xii TRANSLATORS' PREFACE 

When Freud says that the analyst will supply the 
meaning of dream symbols from his own knowledge, 
he is far from implying that the interpretation of 
the symbols is an arbitrary alffair. Just as in the 
use of the microscope the power to interpret the 
visual images is attained only by long experience, 
and by collating the microscopist^s personal experi- 
ence with that of others, so here. Consider, more- 
over, the use of language. In this matter we are all 
familiar with the symbolism that is obvious and de- 
liberate, the symbolism known as metaphor. But 
©very student of linguistic science knows further 
that language is full of hidden symbolisms, is packed 
with symbols whose significance has been forgotten. 
There is no hard and fast line between such sym- 
bolism and the symbolism of dreams, the symbolism 
SN^hose meaning is veiled from consciousness until 
revealed by psychoanalysis. Now one of the most 
notable of Baudouin's contributions to analytical 
science, and a matter upon which he differs from 
the Freudian school, is his careful study of conden- 
sation (see Glossary) in its bearing upon represen- 
tation by symbols. The Freudians regard symboli- 
sation (in dreams) as the means whereby the work- 
ings of the unconscious are veiled from the conscious 
mind. But Baudouin writes (p. 27): ** Condensa- 
tion ... is the first stage in the creation of the 
symbol. I look upon symbolisation as a general law 
of the imagination, and not as being necessarily the 
outcome of the masking of forbidden representa- 
tions." 

The teaching epitomised in the foregoing quota- 



TRANSLATORS' PREFACE xiii 

tion serves, like much tliat Baudouin writes, to bridge 
the gulf between the Freudian enthusiasts and those 
who dissent from Freudian theories and interpreta- 
tions. Mary Arnold-Forster, in Studies in Dreams, 
writes (p. 112) : **My experience convinces me that 
it is not true to state that all dreams are symbolic, 
any more than we can accept as of universal truth 
the Freudian theory that they are all symbols of 
repressed desire/' Nevertheless, it is doubtful if 
there are any dreams free from condensation, as 
Baudouin defines it. Passing to the second criticism, 
we think Baudouin would agree that not all dreams 
are '^Freudian dreams.'' Probably everyone has such 
dreams inter alia. But it is the ** Freudian dreams" 
that serve as grist for the psychoanalytic mill — and 
psychoanalysts are no more free than lesser mortals, 
from the tendency to count the hits and ignore the 
misses. Hence their belief that all dreams are 
^^ Freudian dreams." Baudouin, however, nowhere 
commits himself to such an assertion. We believe 
he would accept the main conclusions of Mary 
Arnold-Forster, whose fascinating volume should be 
read by all interested in dream life and in the pos- 
sibilities of regulating dreams by autosuggestion. 
Her theories and methods square with Baudouin 's 
own teaching anent the control of the subconscious. 

This brief account of the psychoanalytic method 
has not been given to enable amateurs to begin the 
practice of psychoanalysis upon their friends and 
relations, nor even to enable them to undertake the 
first steps in the exceedingly difficult art of auto- 



xiv TRANSLATORS' PREFACE 

psyclioanalysis. It has been given to make it easy 
for the beginner to read Baudouin's book, because he 
will have grasped certain essentials of technique at 
the very outset. Though it was not primarily writ- 
ten for the beginner, we regard Studies in Psycho- 
analysis as perhaps the best work for the beginner 
hitherto published. We consider it better for this 
purpose than Freud's Introductory Lectures on Psy- 
choanalysis, which has recently been made available 
in English. The study of Freud should come after 
that of Baudouin, not before. Having read these 
two volumes, the reader may usefully turn to Jung's 
Collected Papers on Analytical Psychology, and to 
his Psychology of the Unconscious, as authoritative 
expositions of the teachings of the Zurich School. 
His mind thus enlarged, the student will return with 
delight to the clarity of what is destined to become 
known as the Geneva School, and will read the 
Studies again and again. For, heartily as we may 
share Freud's *' dislike for simplification at the ex- 
pense of truth" (op. cit., p. 238), there is much jus- 
tice in Baudouin 's complaint (infra, p. 22) that: 
**The realm of the * unconscious' is necessarily ob- 
scure ; but the psychoanalysts would seem at times to 
have taken a positive delight in peopling it with 
shadows." 

To the graduate in analytical literature we would 
not impertinently offer any hints as to how to read 
this book. But to novices in the field, and in espe- 
cial to those who open the Studies in Psychoanalysis 
solely because they have known and valued the 



TRANSLATORS' PREFACE xy 

author's Suggestion and Autosuggestion^ we venture 
to say : Do not, at a first reading, trouble much about 
the Theoretical Part. This is written mainly for 
experts, is of import to them, and will interest them 
greatly even when they differ from the author. But, 
if you are a beginner, when you have finished the 
General Survey, go straight to the Case Histories. 
Read them in the light of what has been said above 
about method and with the aid of the Glossary. 
Thereby you will be able to enjoy a course of Psy- 
choanalysis without Tears, and will then find your- 
self in a position to master the Theoretical Part with 
the smallest modicum of difficulty. Such, it will be 
noted, has been the author's own path of approach. 
He has worked by the inductive method. In the 
Case Records he is feeling his way and gaining his 
experience from day to day. The Theoretical Part 
represents his conclusions at the date of writing. 

The beginner will enjoy, and even the expert who 
is not a hard-shelled adherent of one of the rival 
schools will value, the concreteness of treatment, and 
the gradual initiation into psychoanalytical ideas by 
the inductive method. The practice of many psycho- 
analyst writers has rather been to attempt a blud- 
geoning of the acolyte. (We do not talk of their 
patients, but of the readers of their books!) They 
take cock-shies at us with the Oedipus complex, say- 
ing: ^* You wanted to kill your father in order to take 
his place with your mother — that's the kind of beast 
you are!" They rub our noses in it! But Charles 
Baudouin gently leads us on to discover our less 
amiable peculiarities for ourselves. He suggests, 



xvl TRANSLATORS' PREFACE 

perhaps, but he does not insist. He attempts no 
more than to make us realise that ^* everything hap- 
pens as if so and so were the case. In fact Baudouin 
treats us as the gentle psychoanalyst treats patients, 
and not as the rough psychoanalyst treats readers. 
He thus avoids prematurely applying to certain fun- 
damental complexes the somewhat brutal handling 
which has made many persons needlessly hostile to 
psychoanalysis. 

We now come to the feature of Baudouin 's book 
which will most effectively disturb the complexes of 
many psychoanalysts. We refer to what the author 
terms the ** mixed method," the coupling of psycho- 
analysis with suggestion. ** Psychoanalysis," writes 
Baudouin (p. 31), *4s incompatible with certain 
forms of suggestion; but it is perfectly compatible 
with others. I regard the intolerance which some 
analysts display towards suggestion as no less de- 
plorable than the sceptical attitude of practitioners 
of suggestion towards analysis." It is in the latter 
respect that Baudouin takes a different road from 
Coue, to whom suggestion unaided seems an all-suf- 
ficient therapeutic method. The deliberately con- 
joined use of suggestion and psychoanalysis is 
Baudouin 's contribution as a pioneer in the field of 
therapy. But an attentive reader of the Studies will 
soon realise that the author's dominant interest in 
psychoanalysis lies in the application of the method. 
to the realm of art. This will be the topic of 
Baudouin's forthcoming volume Psychoanalysis and 
Esthetics. The hostility of certain analysts towards . 



TRANSLATORS' PREFACE xvii 

suggestion leads sometimes to a '* censorship'' of the 
very word. A noted German pychoanalyst, whose 
** orthodoxy" no one would dispute, congratulates 
himself on the disappearance of morbid troubles 
when, in addition to analytical treatment, a continu- 
ous process of *4ncitation" (Aneiferung) is em- 
ployed by the physician. This pundit was reading 
a paper to a psychoanalytical circle, and he would 
not sully his hearers' ears with the obscene word 
** suggestion"! Freud himself is less fastidious. 
Baudouin quotes (infra, p. Ill) a liberal utterance 
concerning suggestive therapeutics; and on p. 380 
of the Introductory Lectures we read that in the 
later stages of the analysis the neurotic patient's 
internal conflict is **by means of the analyst's sug- 
gestions lifted to the surface, to the higher mental 
levels, and is there worked out as a normal mental 
conflict." Again, on p. 381, he speaks of '* changes 
in the ego ensuing as a consequence of the analyst's 
suggestions." Nevertheless, from the seven pages 
which, in his Introductory Lectures, Freud devotes 
to the topic of suggestion, we can only gather that 
his natural devotion to psychoanalysis has led him 
to ignore the latest developments of suggestive ther- 
apy. He was certainly unaware, at the date of these 
lectures (delivered in 1915 and 1917), of the theory 
and practice of autosuggestion as expounded in Sug- 
gestion and Autosuggestion, or he would not lay the 
stress he does on **the problem of the nature and 
source of one's suggestive authority." The point 
cannot be argued here. The Studies will have to 
fight its own battle with the Freudians. Suffice it to 



xviii TRANSLATORS' PREFACE 

quote Baudouin's pragmatic conclusion (p. 31) : 
''The method to which experience has led me, the 
method whose results are recorded in this book, is 
founded upon an unceasing collaboration between 
autosuggestion and psychoanalysis. Many, I know, 
regard this as a heresy. Whether it be heretical or 
not, I am confident that immense advantage can be 
derived from such collaboration." Readers must 
not, however, expect to find in the present work more 
than passing references to autosuggestion. Upon 
that topic the author has delivered his message in 
the earlier volume. But the translators may ven- 
ture to make a point which Baudouin has omitted to 
make for himself. Attentive students of Chapter 
Twelve, **The Search for a Guide,'' will come to 
realise that autosuggestion must owe a large part 
of its power and its extraordinary vogue to the fact 
that it enables those who practise it to find within 
themselves the guide of whom they are in search, 
and enables them in many instances to free them- 
selves from fixations without recourse to the aid of 
the psychoanalyst. 

Jung, says Crichton Miller (op. cit., p. 203), 
** wants to build for the future." Freud, impatient 
of large and vague generalisations, and sedulous to 
perfect and keep immaculate a rather narrow tech- 
nique, speaks regretfully of the days when Jung 
**was a mere psychoanalyst and did not aspire to be 
a prophet." Baudouin, less ambitious than Jung, 
but more ambitious than Freud, strives to collate 
the new psychology with the old, but also reaches 
out towards the future. He writes (p. 28): **The 



TRANSLATORS' PREFACE xix 

intelligence ensures our adaptation to tlie real; tlie 
imagination ensures the adaptation of the real to 
ourselves." Neither task can be adequately achieved 
without perfecting our knowledge of the subcon- 
scious. In a somewhat different sense from that in 
which the phrase is used by Freud (op. cit., p. 163) 
most readers of the Studies will feel of psychoanal- 
ysis that '4f you give it your little finger it will 
soon have your whole hand.'' Immense is the fas- 
cination of a research that is destined to produce 
as great a change in man's life as was caused by the 
discovery of articulate speech, a greater change 
than was caused by the invention of writing or print- 
ing. ^'The study of abnormal psychology — includ- 
ing its variant produced by artifice — has thrown 
more light on the workings of the normal mind than 
all the centuries of academic study of the latter." 
Thus writes Morton Prince in his foreword to 
Arnold-Forster's work on dreams. May we not 
hope that man, the tool-using animal, is on the eve 
of learning how to use the most stupendous of all 
tools — his own mind? 

EDEN AND CEDAR PAUL. 

London, July, 1922. 



TABLE OF CONTENTS 
translators' preface vii 



CHAPTER 

L GENERAL SURVEY 



1. The two Gradations of Psychoanalysis . 1 

2. Guiding Principles of the present Work 10 



PART ONE: THEORETICAL EXPOSITION 



n. SKETCH OF AN AFFECTIVE THEORY OF THE ASSO 
CIATION OF IDEAS 



1. From Associationism to Psychoanalysis 

2. The Laws of affective Association . 

3. Dreaming and Action 



25 

25 
33 
53 



ra. DYNAMICS OF THE AFFECTIVE LIFE, AND THE 

EVOLUTION OF INSTINCTS 67 

1. The Function of the Dream. — Dreaming 

and Play 67 

2. The Idea of an Evolution of Instinct . 82 

3. The Genealogy of Tendencies ... 96 

IV. MIXED method: PSYCHOANALYSIS AND SUGGES- 
TION 121 

1. Contrast 121 

2. Conciliation 127 

xxi 



xxii TABLE OF CONTENTS 

PART TWO: CASE HISTORIES 

CHAPTER PAGE 

V. CHILDREN . . . 147 

1. Linette: Dreams of forbidden Pleasures. 

Fixation upon the Mother . . . 149 

2. Mireille : Fixation upon the Mother. Re- 

fusal of the feminine Role . . . 171 

3. Robert: A Schoolboy ^s Feelings about 

School. Introversion (Analysis of a 
School Essay) 181 

4. Jean: Protest against the Father (Anal- 

ysis of a School Essay) .... 186 



VI. THE CRISIS OF ADOLESCENCE . . . . . 190 

1. Raoul : Budding Virility. The feeling of 

Constraint 192 

2. Kitty: A young GirPs Passion for a 

Woman 195 

3. (j^rard: Vacillating Sublimation. A 

State of Conflict 206 

Vn. ATTITUDE TOWARDS THE PARENTS .... 219 

1. Miriam: A religious and social Calling 

inspired by the Cult of the Father. A 
State of Conflict 221 

2. Marcel: Dread of the Father. Timidity 

and undue Scrupulosity . . .231 

3. Otto: Repressed Virility. Awkwardness 

and Constraint. A philosophic Trend 242 



Vm. THE INSTINCT OF SELF-PRESERVATION AND THE 

INSTINCT FOR MOTHERHOOD .... 266 



TABLE OF CONTENTS xxiii 

CHAPTER I'-^GE 

1. Autopsychoanalysis. Dreams during an 

Attack of pulmonary Tuberculosis . 268 

2. Yvonne: Fears concerning Childbirth . 282 

3. Renee: Refusal of Femininity and of 

Motherhood 284 

4. Martha : Longing for Motherhood. Men- 

strual Irregularity 292 

IX. TYPICAL NERVOUS DISORDERS 294 

1. Alexander : Anxiety States . . .296 

2. Roger: Psychasthenia. Impotence . . 321 

3. Germaine : Spasm of the Eyelid. Fussy 

Activity 339 

X. MENTAL DISORDERS 350 

1. Bertha: Introversion. Delusions of Per- 

secution, Neuralgia .... 352 

2. Ruth: A fixed Idea. Impressions of 

Rape 362 

3. George: Mental Aberrations in an Epi- 

leptic 367 

XI. SUBLIMATIONS 377 

1. Alfred: Stammering. Maladaptation to 

social Life. A Taste for Music . .379 

2. Ida : Sexual Shock at Puberty. Maniacal 

Disturbances. Esthetic Sublimation . 383 

3. Adam : Sublimation in Danger . . . 388 

4. Jeanne: Non- Acceptance of Marriage. 

Thwarted Maternal Instinct. Vacil- 
lating Sublimation . . . . . 393 



xxiv TABLE OF CONTENTS 

CHAPTER PAGE 

5. Queenie: Fixation upon the Father. 

-Esthetic and religious Sublimation . 410 



Xn. THE SEARCH FOR A GUIDE 421 

1. Eynaldo: Change of AnalyvSt. From 

Hostility to Sympathy .... 422 

2. Stella: Sublimation of the Idea of the 

Guide 448 



GLOSSARY 461 

BIBLIOGRAPHY 475 

INDEX 485 



STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 



STUDIES IN 
PSYCHOANALYSIS 

CHAPTER ONE 

GENERAL SURVEY 

1, The two Categories of Psychoanalysis 

Almost the only book by means of wMcb readers of 
the French tongue can gain a knowledge of the prin- 
ciples of psychoanalysis is Eegis and Hesnard's 
faithful exposition of Freudian theory/ This work 
should be read by all students of physoanalytical 
theory. In the present study, I write from an en- 
tirely different point of view. My primary aim has 
been to expound psychoanalysis as concretely as pos- 
sible, by the record of a number of cases analysed 
by myself. As far as concerns the theory upon 
which the practice is based, this cannot be purely 
and simply Freudian, for I have also assimilated the 
ideas of other psychologists, such as Adler, Jung, 
and Flournoy ; and, furthermore, my theoretical out- 
look has necessarily been modified by the data, how- 
ever slender, of my own experience. Thus I make 
no claim to do over again the theoretical work which 

^ Regis and Hesnard, La Psychoanalyse des Nevroses et des 
Psychoses, 1914. 

1 



2 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

has been so ably done by Eegis and Hesnard; my 
book is not a study of the authorities. I approach 
the problem from the other side, where it is con- 
crete and individual. 

These considerations will explain one of the diffi- 
culties of compiling the volume; they will account 
for what may be regarded as its defects. My aim 
has been to produce a record of my own work which 
might interest experts, not to write a popular 
treatise for beginners. On the other hand, I was 
writing for French readers, most of whom are in 
fact beginners in this subject. Consequently it was 
incumbent on me to deal with general principles, 
many of which are trite matters for the expert. 
Have I been clear enough to be comprehensible to 
the general reader; have I been concise enough to 
escape being tedious to the expert! I do not know. 
But I am not without hope that the way in which 
I have had to write my book will prove to have been 
an advantage after all. I believe that a theoretical 
discussion of the general principles of psychoanal- 
ysis is eminently desirable, even though such an 
examination may be considered superfluous by cer- 
tain psychoanalysts, extremists of their school. 

There is good reason for surprise that a thought 
trend so notable both in quality and in quantity 
should still be little known in France. Freud's most 
important work, Traumdeutung,^ has never been 
translated into French. There is a great contrast, 
in this respect, between France and the English- 

^ See complete bibliography at end of volume. 



GENERAL SURVEY 3 

speaking lands. Traumdeutung was translated into 
English in 1913, and psychoanalysis has now be- 
come a household word in Britain and the United 
States. Works on philosophy, various aspects of 
science, and even popular science, have been writ- 
ten by persons who have made the new outlook their 
own.^ To return to France, the neglect of psycho- 
analysis in this country is readily explicable — quite 
apart from the war. Nor are all the reasons wholly 
discreditable to French thought. 

A regretable indifference, routinism and paro- 
chialism, have doubtless played their part. But the 
psychoanalysts are not free from blame. The realm 
of the ^^unconscious'' is necessarily obscure; but 
they would seem at times to have taken a positive 
delight in peopling it with shadows. They have 
been neologist to excess ; some of their theories are 
fantastically bold; not a few of the exponents are 
fanatics. These characteristics of the new doctrine 
were naturally repugnant to the French mind, which 

^ A few instances may be given. Philosophy : W. H. R. Rivers, 
Mind and Medicine, 2nd ed., 1920 ; Bertrand Russell, The Analysis 
of Mind, 1921. Psychology : A. G. Tansley, The New Psychology 
and its Relation to Life, new edition, 1922 (this work is directly 
inspired by psychoanalysis) ; Anonymous (The Plebs League), 
An Outline of Psychology, 1922 (this exposition of psychology 
for working-class students is likewise permeated with psycho- 
analytical theory) ; Millais Culpin, Spiritualism and the Ne^ 
Psychology. Sociology: W. M. Gallichan, The Psychology of 
Marriage, 1917 (it is significant that on p. 64 the author de- 
scribes C. G. Jung as "one of the greatest psychologists of our 
day") ; Eden and Cedar Paul, Creative Revolution, 1920 (these 
writers lay especial stress on "the new lights Freudianism sheds 
upon the problems of revolutionary communism"). The list 
might be greatly extended. 



4 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

loves clarity and good sense and is humorously scep- 
tical. Psychoanalysts have occasionaly done their 
best to justify Nietzsche's aphorism: ^^The German 
spirit is a form of indigestion." They would ap- 
pear, too, to have found it pleasing to break down 
all the bridges connecting their *^^ew science'' with 
the psychology of yesterday. (Like Christopher 
Columbus they have discovered a new world, have 
thereupon renounced allegiance to the old, and have 
even been inclined to deny the existence of the old.) 
We ought not to break down these bridges, bux 
rather to strengthen them. Where could such work 
be more successfully carried on than at Geneva, the 
meeting-place of two cultures'? We have to thank 
the late Theodore Flournoy for having guided our 
footsteps in this direction, for having sought out the 
points of contact between the psychology of William 
James and the psychology of Sigmund Freud, and 
between their respective terminologies. Flournoy 's 
Une mystique moderne is a model of that scientific 
tolerance which is less common than people are apt 
to suppose. The Genevese group of psychoanalysts 
is guided in the same spirit by Edouard Claparede ; 
this spirit likewise animates Pierre Bovet's remark- 
able study L'instinct comhatif. I wish to take this 
opportunity of expressing my indebtedness to all 
these colleagues. 

Such originality as the present work possesses 
will, then, be due to a search for points of contact 
between psychoanalysis and ordinary psychology. 
These points of contact must be found if the science 



GENERAL SURVEY 5 

of the subconscious is to be made assimilable, 
Claparede holds that it does not suffice to translate 
psychoanalysts' writings into French. He considers 
that as far as may be, we ought also to translate 
their thought, their terminology, their very theories, 
into forms more familiar to French minds and to 
non-Freudian psychologists. Unquestionably, an 
unmodified exposition of the psychoanalysis of the 
schools is apt to produce on unfamiliar ears the 
effect produced on Pascal by the Spanish Latin of 
certain Jesuit fathers. **Can these fellows really 
be Christians?" he asks. I am not certain to what 
degree a ^^translation'' of this kind is possible. But 
I am sure that a discussion of the relationships be- 
tween psychoanalysis and ordinary psychology is 
essential, and I believe that it will throw light on 
many points that are still obscure. 

In the field of theory, I have endeavoured to show 
the ties between the psychology which has now be- 
come classical, that of Eibot, James, Bergson, and 
Claparede, to say nothing of the almost forgotten 
Jouffroy. At the same time, I have borne in mind 
Descartes' methodological rule: ** Divide the subject 
into as many subdivisions as you can, for this will 
help you to solve the difficulties." It seems to me 
that in the totality of ideas which pass by the gen- 
eral name of psychoanalysis, at least one great dis- 
tinction ought to be made. 

(a) Psychoanalysis starts by laying the founda- 
tions of an affective theory of the association of 
ideas, a theory which discerns in aifectivity, often 
subconscious, the cause of the ostensibly incoherent 



6 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

creations of the imagination. It is upon this that 
the new method of studying the subconscious has 
been based. 

(h) This affectivity which is discerned behind the 
imagination, is in its turn linked by psychoanalysis 
with instinct. To the psychoanalysts, all the higher 
sentiments appear to be products of the evolution 
of a crude instinct. Thus we arrive at a biological 
theory of affectivity, which is likewise an evolu- 
tionary theory of instinct. 

It follows that there are two categories, sufficiently 
distinct, though not hitherto sufficiently distin- 
guished: 

(a) imagination explained by affectivity; 

(fe) affectivity explained by instinct. 
The former theory, which is supported by an abun- 
dance of facts that anyone can observe for himself, 
is all the better for being separated from the latter 
theory; for this, though in broad outlines it appears 
acceptable, is complicated in matters of detail by a 
number of hypothetical and contradictory formulas. 
We must leave to to-morrow the perfectionment of 
this biological theory. By confusing the issues, by 
trying to compact the two theories into one, we run 
the risk of giving a hypothetical aspect even to data 
that are based upon an extremely solid foundation. 

Larguier des Bancels, in his recent work Introduc- 
tion a la psyoJiologie, writes (Avant-propos, pp. 
13-14): ^^The American school draws a distinction 
between functional psychology and structural psy- 
chology. Structural psychology analyses the phe- 
nomena; it endeavours to discover their mechanism; 



GENERAL SURVEY 7 

in a word, it describes them. Functional psycliology 
is concerned with, the purport of these same phe- 
nomena, and seeks to elucidate their biologic role. 
Here we have two perspectives. They are equally 
legitimate but the observer cannot occupy two view- 
points at the same time. Aristotle's psychology is 
functional psychology. Locke remains the master 
of structural psychology. The doctrine of the facul- 
ties is a return to Aristotle. The associationism of 
the nineteenth century carries on the tradition of 
Locke and his eighteenth-century successors." 

The first category of psychoanalysis (the affective 
theory of association) is a structural psychology; 
the second category is a functional psychology. We 
have here 'Hwo perspectives. They are equally 
legitimate, but the observer cannot occupy two view- 
points at the same time." They are related to one 
another just as anatomy and physiology are related 
to one another. Now it is certain that the dynamic 
and functional point of view which has been the 
favourite outlook in psychology since James, is the 
only one enabling us to formulate an integral science 
of the phenomena of existence. We have no more 
right to blame Freud than we have to blame William 
James for having wished to construct a dynamic 
psychology. Nevertheless we are entitled to add 
that the second point of view (functional) must be 
a sequel to the first (structural). When people 
begin to give functional explanations in default of a 
suffi<iient descriptive foundation, they must never 
forget that they are formulating mere hypotheses. 
These may of course be extremely useful in research 



8 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

as guiding ideas ; but they are dangerous, for many 
people are inclined to make of them a slippery 
descent into an unscientific finalism. A dynamic 
explanation is the goal we must seek to attain; but 
all dynamic explanations will be provisional so long 
as our static descriptions remain inadequate. In 
like manner, when we have to trace a continuous 
curve representing experimental data, we must not 
endeavour to do so until we have directly deter- 
mined a sufficient number of isolated points through 
which the curve has to pass. It is the business of 
functional psychology to trace the curve; but it is 
the business of structural psychology to ascertain 
the points through which the curve must pass. 

This distinction between the two categories corre- 
sponds to the distinction which Bovet has drawn be- 
tween psychoanalysis as a method and psychoanal- 
ysis as a doctrine, for whereas the method is essen- 
tially based on the former theory, the doctrine is 
built on the latter. 

^^ Psychoanalysis, *' writes Bovet, ^*is, above all, 
a method for the study of the subconscious. To 
initiate ourselves into psychoanalysis is to form an 
idea of this method and to attempt the manipulation 
of this instrument. 

** Frequently, however, experts in psychoanalysis, 
identifying the method with the results, present it 
to us as a body of doctrines bearing upon the nature 
of the subconscious ego, and offer it to us as a new 
psychology. In this they resemble a Pisan of the 
seventeenth century who should have given the name 
of * telescopy' to Galileo's opinions concerning the 



GENERAL SURVEY 9 

satellites of Jupiter and concerning the solar system 
in general. 

*^It is well to point out that the wide differences 
which separate the various schools of psychoanalysts 
(those of Freud, Adler, and Jung, respectively) do 
not impair in any way the value of the instrument 
which they all alike use as a means of study. The 
differences relate to the interpretation of the facts 
which psychoanalysis has revealed. Let us suppose 
that two astronomers, independently studying the 
planet Mars, detect the phenomenon which is known 
as the gemination of the canals of that luminary. 
Perhaps one astronomer will tell us that the gemina- 
tion is due to some peculiarity in the refraction of 
light, whereas the other will ascribe it to a seasonal 
variation in the distribution of the waters of the 
planet. But the existence of such disputes does not 
justify us in contending that telescopes are useless. 
Bather should they urge us to perfect our utilisation 
of telescopes, or to supplement their employment 
by other methods which will enable us to reduce the 
uncertainties attendant on the interpretation of the 
phenomena we are observing." ^ 

I shall perhaps, when I come to the concrete ex- 
position of cases, be charged with having failed to 
abide by my own distinction. I am aware that it is 
extremely difficult to avoid adopting the current 
methods of exposition. Conversely, in practice it is 
sometimes difficult to disentangle the fact from the 
interpretation. Simply by recording a fact, we in- 
terpret it ; and language is a web of interpretations. 

^ Pierre Bovet, La Psychanalyse et L'education, pp. 4-5, 1920. 



10 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

When, therefore, the reader comes across a func- 
tional interpretation which seems to him to lack 
adequate verification, let him prefix the words: 
*' Everything happens as if . . ." This prefix will 
not conflict with the essence of my thought. 

2, Guiding Principles of the Present Work 

Thanks to this distinction, I have at least been 
able to avoid the perpetual mingling of comprehen- 
sive functional hypotheses with the description of 
the affective laws of the association of images 
(Chapter Two). I therefore regard the symbolism 
of dreams as a natural result of the working of the 
laws of condensation and displacement, and I do not 
apriori consider symbolism to be the purposive 
masking of repressed and ** censored'' mental proc- 
esses. This notion of the *^ censorship" has been 
strongly criticised, even by psychoanalysts (Eivers, 
for instance). There are plenty of cases in which 
it is not necessary to invoke such . a hypothesis, 
whereas condensation is a persistent fact. This con- 
densation, which groups images characterised by a 
common affect, groups them so as to form a single 
composite and new image, is the first stage in the 
creation of the symbol. I look upon symbolisation 
as a general law of the imagination, and not as being 
necessarily the outcome of the masking of forbidden 
representations. This applies equally to artistic 
symbols, which have with good reason been com- 
pared to the spontaneous symbols of dreams. An 
author may use a symbol to disguise his thought 
and thus throw an official censorship off the scent; 



GENERAL SURVEY 11 

this is what Montesquieu did in his Lettres persanes. 
On the other hand, an author may use a symbol sim- 
ply as a means of self-expression; this is the prac- 
tice of the symbolist poets. 

The condensation of images lies at the very root 
of creative imagination. This implies that creative 
imagination is the direct outcome of an affective 
state, so that we might say that sensibility itself is 
the true creator of new images. Condensation is 
more powerful in strong affective states than in 
weak ones; it is more powerful likewise in dreams 
than in waking states. This leads us to ask what may 
be the common element in affective states and dream 
states, and we realise that the two types of condition 
are characterised by a suspension of activity, of 
spontaneous movement. Both affectivity, and the 
dream or the reverie which affectivity engenders, are 
pent-up action. 

Thence we pass to the dynamic outlook (Chapter 
Three), and we ask what can be the fwnction or 
functions of the dream (and of such kindred states 
as reverie and aesthetic creation). First of all, we 
look upon the dream as an exercise of the creative 
imagination. In this respect its usefulness, even 
from the point of view of action, is evident. The 
intelligence ensures our adaptation to the real; the 
imagination ensures the adaptation of the real to 
ourselves. But when we come to consider the re- 
markable law of displacement (whose working is 
manifest in dreams), the law in virtue of which an 
affect is detached from its real object and trans- 
ferred to another object, we cannot but assimilate 



12 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

the dream to play, in which the imagination of the 
child effects like displacements. If we study the 
conditions of dreaming and of play, their kinship 
becomes even more apparent. Since Karl Groos 
wrote on the subject, play has been looked upon as 
an outlet or exercise for unutilised tendencies. The 
dream, a manifestation of pent-up action, is in like 
manner the outcome of unutilised tendencies. In the 
dream, these tendencies are discharged; they exer- 
cise themselves ; they enact the possibilities of their 
future evolution. 

For tendencies evolve. They are the psychologi- 
cal manifestation of instinct ; and instinct, which was 
long regarded as immutable, is now looked upon as 
susceptible of development. In man, above all, in- 
stinct is malleable. Naturalists have shown that 
suppressions and transformations of instinct occur 
among animals. Psychologists (William James, for 
instance) point to the same phenomena in man. 
Freud's originality lies in this, that he discloses the 
link between suppression and transformation. Sup- 
pression is apparent merely; although the instinct 
is repressed, it still lives in a modified form. Ap- 
proaching the matter from the olher side, we may 
say that an instinct which has been transformed is 
preeminently an instinct which has been restrained. 

Thus psychoanalysis culminates in an evolutionary 
theory of instinct. The transformations of instinct 
are clues to the affective life; and the higher senti- 
ments are nourished by instinctive forces. Freud 
has turned his attention to the evolution of the sexual 
instinct ; Adler, to the instinct for power. Jung at- 



GENERAL SURVEY 13 

tempts a synthesis of the two systems, unifying 
under the term libido all instinctive energy. But 
this unification belongs rather to the realm of phi- 
losophy than to that of science. From the psycholo- 
gist's point of view we are inclined to ask whether 
the reconciliation of Freud's views with Adler's 
should not rather be sought upon a deliberately 
analytical platform ; and whether, instead of consid- 
ering all instincts as manifestations of one single 
kind of energy, it would not be better if we were 
more modestly to study the evolution of each instinct 
by itself. Psychoanalysis is an evolutionary theory 
of instinct; it ofught to become an evolutionary 
theory of the instincts. We need not hesitate to ad- 
mit that a number of different instincts can partici- 
pate in the genesis of the same higher sentiment. 
This purely analytic path, which is not the path of 
the systematist, is the one which British and French 
writers upon psychoanalysis appear to be following. 
Both Eivers and MacCurdy have studied war neu- 
roses as functions of the instinct of self-preserva- 
tion, and Bovet has written a monograph on the 
combative instinct. Henceforward we must delib- 
erately work along these lines. Thus we shall free 
psychoanalytic science from that systematiser's 
spirit, from that inappropriate metaphysic, which 
have been its bane, and which have prevented super- 
ficial observers (and even some persons of first-class 
intelligence) from recognising its value as a con- 
tribution to positive science. 

In the practice of psychoanalytical re-education. 



14 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

it will, moreover, be fruitless as a rule to attempt a 
choice from among hypothetical interpretations when 
these belong to the second category (the biological 
theory of affectivity). Freud, Adler, and others 
have secured successes by explaining to their pa- 
tients that the symptoms with which these were 
affected were due to causes which they themselves 
(the psychoanalysts) have inferred as the outcome 
of the analysis. Now each analyst has his own 
theory, and the causes explained to the patient vary 
from analyst to analyst. Yet the practical successes 
of the treatment are indubitable. Does it not fol- 
low that we should be mistaken in attributing these 
successes to remote causes of an extremely hypo- 
thetical character, when immediate and far less 
hypothetical causes are competent to explain them? 
Or, following Bovet's terminology, may we not say 
that the curative power of psychoanalysis depends 
more upon the method than upon the theory which 
guides it? 

At this stage, sceptics will obviously declare that 
the results are not due to a knowledge either of the 
affective causes or of the biological causes, but that 
everything is the outcome of suggestion. This ob- 
jection merely proves that the objector is ignorant 
of psychoanalysis. All the same, despite its naivety, 
the psychoanalysts will do well to take the criticism 
into account. Those who have studied suggestion, 
and in especial those who are familiar with the work 
of the New Nancy School,^ are well aware that the 

^ See the author^s other writings, enumerated in the Bibliog- 
raphy. 



GENERAL SURVEY 15 

factor of suggestion plays its part in every method 
of treatment and in all kinds of education. Purely 
physical therapeutic methods do not escape the work- 
ing of this law ; statistics have demonstrated its im- 
portance in connection with the treatment of con- 
sumption/ But in psychoanalysis, where we have 
to do with the nervous system and the suhconscious 
(which is preeminently the field of suggestion), and 
where in addition an intimate affective relationship 
is apt to be established between teacher and pupil, 
there can be no question but that the factor of sug- 
gestion is powerfully operative. This does not de- 
prive the method of any part of its objective value; 
but when the psychoanalysts would fain prohibit sug- 
gestion, they are asking the impossible. Seeing, 
tJien, that it is inevitable that suggestion should ac- 
company the analysis, would it not he better to guide 
this suggestion instead of trying to ignore it? 

Here we again reach a point where a great many 
analysts, intolerant in matters of practice no less 
than in matters of theory, seem to have wished to 
break down the bridges behind them. The only psy- 
chology, they tell us, is psychoanalysis; and in like 
manner they insist that psychoanalysis is the only 
psychotherapeutics. They discard suggestion as an 
obsolete method, superseded by analysis, and in con- 
flict with the latter. For my part, I believe that this 
supposition of a conflict between psychoanalysis and 
suggestion is based upon a number of false hypoth- 

^ Louis Renon, Tuberculose pulmonaire chronique, " Le Monde 
Medicale/' January 15, 1914. See also Baudouin, Suggestion 
and Autosuggestion, pp. 97-9. 



16 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

eses, and upon misunderstandings which I am en- 
deavouring to clear up. Psychoanalysis is incom- 
patible with certain forms of suggestion; but it is 
perfectly compatible with others. I regard the in- 
tolerance which some analysts display towards sug- 
gestion as no less deplorable than the sceptical atti- 
tude of practitioners of suggestion towards analysis. 
The method to which experience has led me, the 
method whose results are recorded in this book, is 
founded upon an unceasing collaboration between 
autosuggestion and psychoanalysis (Chapter Four). 
Many, I know, regard this as a heresy. Whether it 
be heretical or not, I am confident that immense 
advantage can be derived from such collaboration. 

Generally speaking, throughout this work more 
stress is laid on the normal than on the pathological. 
In my view, analysis is a method of education or 
re-education rather than a curative method.^ In 
many cases, the internal conflicts which the analysis 
has to resolve cannot be looked upon as morbid. 
Pfister is right in insisting that we must call normal 
education to our aid. Even where we have to deal 
with morbid symptoms, we shall help the patient by 
showing how these have developed through the 
hypertrophy of conditions that are perfectly normal, 
so that our therapeutic analysis will take the form, 
not so much of an amputation which cuts everything 
away, as of a cauterisation which removes what is 
superfluous. Psychoanalytical experience merely 
confirms our view that the difference between the 

^ I take the same view of suggestion. 



GENERAL SURVEY 17 

pathological and the normal is only one of degree. 
But, like every medical method, it has begun by con- 
sidering the pathological, and its consideration of 
the normal has been a secondary reconstruction. 
This pathological method is an excellent one ; and its 
application to psychology has brought about the 
maximum of progress, for, precisely because the 
pathological is as it were the normal seen through 
pathological ig as it were the normal seen through 
a microscope. Hypnotism and suggestion consti- 
tute one way of applying this method; psychoanal- 
ysis is another. But if psychoanalysis, like sugges- 
tion, has naturally followed the route from the patho- 
logical to the normal, it is essential to impress upon 
psychoanalysis (and to do so more vigorously than 
has yet been attempted) the inverse movement — the 
movement which, as far as suggestion is concerned, 
was initiated at Nancy and carried to its logical 
conclusion by the New Nancy School. The Salpe- 
triere School, having discovered suggestion in per- 
sons suffering from hysteria, looked upon it as a 
morbid phenomenon, and was inclined to detect hys- 
teria in everything. The Nancy School, psychologi- 
cal rather than pathological, inverting the order of 
research, set out from the normal phenomena which 
had been revealed by the light of pathology, to pass 
on by degrees to the study of morbid modifications. 
The route from the pathological to the normal is 
one of research; the route from the normal to the 
pathological is one of exposition and synthesis. The 
two methods are complementary. Whenever the 
study of the pathological has thrown light on a nor- 



18 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

mal phenomenon, we must do our utmost to deduce 
the pathological from the normal, and thus to put 
things in their places. The psychoanalysts have 
rarely reversed the engine in this way. Conse- 
quently Han Eyner, though as a thinker he is sym- 
pathetic towards psychoanalysis, once asked mis- 
chievously whether the doctors would not soon be 
talking of ** chronic normality" or ** acute health." 

In this realm of thought, an error of terminology 
is current, and the experts are themselves largely 
to blame for its existence. I refer to the identifica- 
tion of the words ** nervous" and *' neuropathic." 
Analysis undoubtedly confirms the supposition that 
the three terms ^* nervous," ^^ affective," ^imagina- 
tive," have kindred connotations. But we must not 
infer, as some are inclined to do, that moral sen- 
sibility and imagination are pathological manifesta- 
tions. The nervous person is a potential neuropath, 
just as a biped is a potential cul-de-jatte; ^ but he is 
not necessarily a neuropath. We have no right to 
describe aesthetic, philosophical, and religious phe- 
nomena as forms of the neuroses and psychoses. 
Nevertheless certain analysts employ phraseology 
which conveys this impression. A professor of the 
University of Geneva, during a philosophical discus- 
sion with a psychoanalyst, found it necessary to 
interject good-humouredly : **But what difference do 
you make, then, between a metaphysician and a pa- 
tient suffering from dementia prcecoxV^ Such 
errors of terminology may entail errors of thought, 
dangerous errors. Some psychoanalysts seem to 

^ A person who has lost both legs. 



GENERAL SURVEY 19 

regard the whole human mind as an elaborate sexual 
perversion; others, as an imaginative compensation 
for an organic inferiority. Following this line of 
thought, man might be defined as ^^a neuropathic 
animal"; and it is perfectly true that the human 
nervous system possesses a delicacy of poise, and 
consequently a liability to injury, which is unknown 
among ruminants. 

A person of nervous temperament may develop 
into a neuropath, but he may also develop into a 
genius. It depends upon which line he is switched 
on to. This is the significance of the well-known 
formula: **A neurosis is an unsuccessful work of 
art; a work of art is a successful neurosis.'' We 
must not, of course, infer that the two things are 
equivalent. The difference between failure and suc- 
cess may perhaps represent the whole difference be- 
tween the pathological and the normal, for the nor- 
mal is essentially a successful adaptation. A runner 
may become the champion; it is also possible that 
he will fall and break his leg. He will not think 
it funny if you tell him there is no difference. 

If we take the normal as our starting-point, we 
are taking a psychological outlookinstead of a medi- 
cal outlook, and consequently we are building an 
additional bridge between psychoanalysis and the 
classical psychology. For the aim of the classical 
psychology was to describe the mind of the normal 
man, of a man so normal that he was at times stupid. 
(We remember some of the truisms of the scholas- 
tics, the eclectics, etc.) For a long time psychology 
had to pay for the fact that its origins were exclu- 



20 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

sively philosophical; during this period it was 
largely restricted to the domain of solemn and futile 
generalisations. We have to thank Auguste Comte 
for having run atilt, not as has been declared against 
psychology in general, but against the psychology 
of the schools ; and we have further to thank him for 
the appeal to pathological methods of study, which 
were destined to furnish such brilliant results a few 
years later. But we must avoid the opposite ex- 
treme, must avoid undue eagerness to study the 
pathological where classical psychology was unduly 
inclined to study the normal — though such undue 
stressing of the pathological is an almost inevitable 
characteristic of methods that are medical in their 
origin. By studying the normal aspects where medi- 
cal psychologists have studied the pathological, we 
shall be able to integrate the two methods in psy- 
chological science. It is very probable that the nor- 
mal phenomena of which we are in search have al- 
ready been noted, though not perhaps fully under- 
stood, by psychologists ; we may find that they have 
been named, and have been coordinated with a whole 
system of known facts. We have to act as inter- 
preters between the respective tongues of psychology 
and pathology. Perhaps, too, we have to act as 
interpreters between the French of the psycholo- 
gists and the German of the pathologists. 

This much is certain, that we should serve French 
thought an ill turn if we allowed it to persist in its 
ignorance of such a movement as psychoanalysis. 
We may note, indeed, that French writers are be- 
ginning to show an interest in the question. So 



GENERAL SURVEY 21 

judicious an authority as Pierre Janet, though criti- 
cal and even harshly critical of many psychoana- 
lytical interpretations, deplores that prejudices 
against psychoanalysis are prevalent in France,^ 
and devotes a long study to this method.^ H. Pieron, 
again, has written an appreciative essay on a work 
by Rivers which is entirely based on psychoanalysis.^ 
An absurd chauvinism is perhaps still responsible 
for hostility to a ** German doctrine," and the joke 
of the matter is that the founder of this alleged 
'* German doctrine'' is an Austrian Jew. In any 
case, truth has nothing to do with passports and 
birth certificates. Freud's psychology, like Ein- 
stein's physics, is an extant fact. We cannot sup- 
press a fact by refusing to look at it; this is the 
wisdom of the ostrich. No one can do away with a 
revolution by imitating Louis XVIII, who spoke of 
1814 as the twenty-second year of his reign. Nor 
can anyone get rid of the fact that Galileo lived and 
wrote. The pontiffs who excommunicate, succeed 
only in excommunicating themselves. The move- 
ment of human thought goes on outside their church, 
and quietly leaves them stranded. E pur si muovef 

^Pierre Janet, Les medications psychologiqiies, 1919, vol. ii. 
p. 268. 

2 Ibid. (Les traitements par la liquidation morale), pp. 204 et 
seq. — Cf. the same author's Rapport au Congres de Londres, 
1913. — Pierre Janet was at the outset distrustful of psychoanaly- 
sis. To-day he is far more sympathetic. 

^ H. Pieron, Une adaptation biologique du Freudisme aux psy- 
ehonevroses de guerre (a review of Rivers' Instinct and the Un- 
conscious), "Journal de Psychologie," Paris, 1921, No. 1. 



PAKT ONE 
THEORETICAL EXPOSITION 



CHAPTER TWO 

SKETCH OF AN AFFECTIVE THEOBY OF THE 
ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS 

7. From Associationism to Psychoanalysis 

Why and how do ideas and images become asso- 
ciated, so that one calls up another; above all, why 
does this happen when there is no rational tie, and 
in the absence of voluntary effort? How can we 
explain the spontaneous and apparently capricious 
progress of a mind which *4s thinking about noth- 
ing," and which, all the same, is thinking about a 
thousand things? Since the days of Plato and 
Aristotle these questions have aroused the interest of 
many philosophers. In modern times they have been 
the especial concern of the empiricist school of Locke, 
of the French sensualist school (Condillac), and 
in particular of the British school of the nineteenth 
century which is specifically known as the associa- 
tionist school (Hamilton, John Stuart Mill, etc.). 
For these philosophers, association was of supreme 
importance, inasmuch as they looked upon ** simple 
ideas,'' or images, as atoms, as elementary psychic 
units; and they considered that the manifold com- 
binations of such units sufficed to explain the whole 
life of the understanding. The combinations, it will 
be remembered, took place in accordance with the 
laws of contiguity, similarity, and contrast. Two 

25 



26 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

images became associated when their objects had 
been perceived side by side ; or when they were like 
one another; or when they were contrasted. More 
precise differentiae were subsequently added to these 
vague general laws. The force of associations was 
measured (experimental work of Ebbinghaus, Miiller 
and Pilzecker, Jost) ; the rapidity of associations 
was measured (Miinsterberg, Scripture) ; associa- 
tions were classified in accordance with the charac- 
teristics of the associated terms and their varying 
mutual relationships, of form or colour, co-ordina- 
tion or subordination, etc. (classifications of Wundt, 
Miinsterberg, Claparede). With the passage of the 
years, however, the vast hopes of the associationists 
were disappointed, and the basic defect of their 
theory was gradually revealed. The mistake was 
that the associationists had tried to explain the 
interaction of the images by the inherent characters 
of these images, without appealing to any external 
force ; much as if an observer, ignoring the presence 
of a magnet and its properties, should endeavour to 
understand why iron filings in a magnetic field group 
themselves along the lines of force while considering 
these filings as mere independent particles. Such 
an observer might make interesting observations on 
the positions of the particles, and he would be able 
to formulate certain laws; but to arrive at an ex- 
planatory and synthetic principle would be beyond 
his power. Underlying the associationists' doctrine 
and invalidating it, is an implicit postulate that the 
representative life is self-explicable, that the fan- 
tasies of the imagination can be made comprehen- 



THEORY OF ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS 27 

sible by a study of the nature of the images. People 
came to realise that this doctrine was inadequate 
and arbitrary, and to suspect where the ^^ magnet'' 
was to be found — in the affective life. 

This appeal to the affective life became more and 
more necessary in proportion as psychologists re- 
nounced the eclectic theory of independent ^^facul- 
ties''; but it is interesting to note that in the writ- 
ings of Jouffroy, one of the eclectics, we find fore- 
shadowings of the modem affective theories. In his 
Cours d^esthetique, he supplements the theory of 
association (17th Lesson, p. 121) by a remarkable 
theory of the symbol (18th and 19th Lessons, pp. 
131, 139). Thanks to association, says Jouffroy, 
every sensation, every idea, is enabled to evoke and 
to signify states of mind which transcend it, thus 
becoming a symbol. Jouffroy opines that this prop- 
erty is one of the foundations of artistic expression. 
He goes so far as to say: ** Everything that we per- 
ceive is symbolical, for everything that we perceive 
arouses in us the idea of something else that we do 
not perceive" (p. 133). 

This theory of the symbol, in which Jouffroy shows 
that he has an inkling of the muffled affective reso- 
nances of a perception or an image, was for a long 
time ignored. Everyone is familiar with it to-day, 
when psychoanalysis has made symbolism fashion- 
able. Gr. Dwelshauvers writes : *^ Associationism did 
not make its way into France before the days of 
Taine and Eibot ; but Jouffroy was familiar with the 
principles of the associationist school, and the asso- 



28 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

ciationist theory suggested to him another theory, 
far more comprehensive and more profoimd. We 
may call it symbolism. ' ' ^ 

**Far more comprehensive and more profound'' is 
perhaps hyperbolical. We must resist the tempta- 
tion to fill out the term employed by Jouifroy with 
all the ideas which the word now arouses in our 
minds, ideas that were not present in his when he 
used it. But as a foreshadowing, the utterance is 
significant. 

When we come to Eibot, the affective factor is 
explicitly invoked. A fundamental matter, and one 
whose importance was fully realised by this author, 
is what we shall call affective association or conden- 
sation. He describes it in the following terms: 
**Eepresentations which have been accompanied by 
the same affective state, tend henceforward to be 
associated; their affective similarity forms a link 
between the separate representations. This is not 
the same as association by contiguity, which is a 
repetition of the experience; nor is it the same as 
association by similarity in the intellectual sense.^ 
The states of consciousness are linked, not because 
they have previously occurred together, nor because 
we perceive similarities between them, but because 
they have a common affective tone. Joy, sadness, 
love, hatred, surprise, boredom, pride, fatigue, etc., 

^ G. Dwelshauvers, La psychologie francaise contemporaine, 
1920, p. 33. 

2 That is to say objective similarity (shape, colour, etc.), the 
only similarity with which the associationists are concerned when 
formulating the " law of similarity .'' 



m 



THEORY OF ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS 29 

can each become a centre of attraction grouping rep- 
resentations or events which are devoid of any in- 
tellectual interconnection, but which have the same 
emotional tinge — joyful, melancholy, erotic, etc. 
This form of association is common in dreams and 
in reverie, that is to say, in a state of mind when 
imagination works in perfect freedom."^ 

This passage is so important, and the author states 
his views so simply, that it was worth quoting in 
full. We shall see shortly some picturesque exam- 
ples of this condensation. Enough for the moment 
to indicate its importance. In another work Eibot 
writes: * ^ Substantially, this form corresponds to 
what official psychology denotes by the vague term 
*the influence of the feeling on the intelligence.' "^ 

This influence is not an occasional matter; it is 
persistent. We cannot fully understand the intel- 
lectual life as a whole unless we take into account the 
subjacent realm of feeling. Eignano goes so far 
as to maintain, as regards various forms of in- 
sanity, that these disorders of the intelligence are 
fundamentally disorders of feeling. He adds that 
attention can be reduced to affective phenomena.^ 
If feeling thus helps us to understand the working 
of the intelligence, it is all the more necessary to 
have recourse to a study of feeling when we wish to 
understand that more primitive and spontaneous 
form of intelligence which is known as imagination.* 

*Ribot, Essai sur Pimagination creatriee, 1900, p. 31. 
2 Ribot, Logique des sentiments, 1905, p. 22. 
^ Rignano, Psychologic du raisonnement, 1920. 
'*Baudouin, The Affective Basis of Intelligence, 1920. 



30 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

In addition to describing condensation, Ribot gives 
an excellent account of what lie terms the transfer- 
ence of a feeling. Transference may, in a sense, be 
regarded as the inverse of condensation. Here a 
feeling, instead of grouping round itself a number 
of separate images, is itself dispersed over a num- 
ber of associated images. Ribot writes (Logique 
des sentiments, p. 4): ^'Transference may result 
from similarity. When an intellectual state has been 
accompanied by a strong feeling, a similar state 
tends to arouse the same feeling. It may result 
from contiguity. When intellectual states have co- 
existed, the feeling linked with the primary state 
tends, if strong enough, to be transferred to the 
others. The lover tends to transfer the feeling 
which is at first associated with the person of his 
mistress, to her clothing, her furniture, her house. 
In an absolute monarchy, reverence for the person 
of the king is transferred to the throne, to the insig- 
nia of power, to everything which is more or less 
closely connected with the monarch." 

Anyone, however, who attempts to unravel phe- 
nomena of such a character — condensation or trans- 
ference, for example — is likely to be led astray un- 
less he knows that in many cases this interplay of 
feelings and images goes on unawares. Everything 
happens as if such links were effected, but as if 
they were effected in the subconscious (or * ^uncon- 
scious"). Ribot, therefore, is perfectly ri^ht when 
to the *^ affective factor" he adds the *' unconscious 
factor, ' ' which is fundamentally a form of latent af- 
fectivity. Thus **at first we have an unconscious 



THEORY OF ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS 31 

working equivalent to a series of judgments of value, 
and proceeding by analogy. Subsequently, and 
mainly, we have an imaginative construction, con- 
sisting of associations radiating in various direc- 
tions, but unified by the unconscious selective process 
of a dominant desire. ' ' ^ 

At the same date, both Flournoy and Claparede 
were drawing attention to these facts. Claparede 
describes the evocation of an idea through the in- 
strumentality of a feeling: ** Feeling here plays the 
part of an ordinary psychic element in conformity 
with the laws of association. When two intellectual 
states have been accompanied by the same affective 
state, they tend to become associated. The affective 
state which cements them may either remain con- 
scious or may disappear from consciousness. 
Flournoy has given a lucid explanation of the phe- 
nomena of coloured hearing by invoking an affective 
association of this character." ^ 

In 1903, Claparede was already aware of the im- 
portance, in this relationship, of the early works of 
Freud : ^ ' The leading characteristic of affective as- 
sociation is its tenacity. We note this in certain 
pathological cases. A psychic element which has 
become linked with an emotion is averse to forming 
fresh associative ties. For instance, we hear of a 
patient who was unwilling to wash the hand which 
his sovereign had touched. Here the affect associ- 
ated with the hand was inhibiting any new relation- 

^Ribot, Logique des sentiments, p. 4. 

2 Claparede, L'association des idees, 1903, p. 348. 



32 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

ships into wliicli the hand might have entered. 
Brener and Frend ^ explain in this way the tics or 
habit-spasms, the contractures, and the other morbid 
symptoms, from which hysterical patients suffer.'' ^ 

Claparede also borrows from Bibot the theory of 
transference, and borrows Eibot's examples. With 
Eibot, he distinguishes between transference hy con- 
tiguity (e.g., the venting of wrath upon inanimate 
objects belonging to an enemy), and transference hy 
similarity (e.g., a mother drawn towards a young 
man who resembles her dead son). At this date, 
Claparede was already identifying the term trans- 
ference with the term Verschiehung (displacement). 
In Freud's writings this idea of displace7nent, which 
was destined ere long to play a great part in psycho- 
analysis, was more complex than the * ^ transference ' ' 
referred to by Eibot. According to Freud, the feel- 
ing is not merely related to a new object, but is 
partly or wholly detached from its former object. 
"We shall see that this substitution is of supreme 
importance in dreams, and that it is one of the phe- 
nomena which are prone to mislead us in their in- 
terpretation. 

To-day, the inadequacy of associationism is gen- 
erally recognised. Throughout his philosophical 
writings, Bergson inveighs against this atomic for- 
mulation of mental phenomena. Let me quote a 
specific passage: **We do not contest the truth of 
the 'law of similarity,' but . . . any two ideas, any 
two images chosen haphazard, however discrepant 

^ Freud, Paralysies hj^steriques, p. 41. 
2 Claparede, op. cit., p. 346. 



THEORY OF ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS 33 

they may be, will always be found to have some ele- 
ment of similarity, for it will always be possible to 
find a common genus to wbioh they can be as- 
signed.''^ 

Brunscbvicg, likewise, stresses tbe consideration 
that everything can be associated with everything 
else. In the interplay of the images he distin- 
guishes, in addition to a function of juxtaposition, a 
function of fusion.^ We are now in a position to 
presume that aff ectivity plays its part in this fusion. 
Eibot, in the passage previously quoted, actually 
spoke of states which **are linked" under the in- 
fluence of the affective factor. We have seen that 
Claparede says that a feeling '* cements" two images. 

2, The Laws of affective Association 

No one who undertakes an impartial study of the 
psychoanalytical conception of the imagination, or 
of the psychoanalytical view of association in gen- 
eral, can fail to notice how closely akin this con- 
ception is to that of Ribot. I point out the fact, not 
in order to detract from Freud's title to originality, 
but in order to show that Freud's ideas are less sub- 
versive than is commonly supposed. Indeed, many 
of Freud's writings are contemporary with those of 
Ribot, and some antecede those of the French psy- 
chologist. As far as our present outlook is con- 
cerned, Freud's originality is to be found in his 

^Bergson, L'energie spirituelle, 1920, p. 153. 
2 Brunsehvieg, Introduction a la vie de Pesprit, 3rd edition, 
1920, pp. 12-17. 



34 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

study of imagination and association in dreams. 
This field was peculiarly well adapted for the dis- 
covery of the affective laws, which operate with ex- 
ceptional vigour in the world of dreams. The laws 
run parallel with those formulated by Eibot, but 
they are more comprehensive. Condensation, dis- 
placement, and the role of the subconscious, form the 
foundations of the psychoanalytical theory of 
dreams. 

Let us first consider coitdensatio]^, the Verdich- 
tung of Freud. Eibot, in the passage previously 
quoted, states that this form is ^* common in 
dreams"; and he points out that, through condensa- 
tion, the images, not content with being juxtaposed, 
*^are linked. '^ The psychoanalytical view is that 
this intimate linking may be regarded as normal in 
dreams, a combination so close that keen scrutiny 
is requisite before the combined elements can be 
distinguished. Our dreams resemble the ** com- 
posite photographs'' obtained by partial exposures 
of the same photographic plate to the image of a 
number of different persons of the same family, in 
order to bring out ^^family traits." In the case we 
are now considering, the family trait is a likeness 
of feeling or emotion which serves as a link be- 
tween separate memories. Thus it is that in a dream 
the landscape we have never seen, but which never- 
theless we seem to recognise, is an amalgam of a 
number of landscapes which we actually have seen. 
Peculiarly applicable to these dream landscapes is 
Amiel's saying: **A landscape is a state of mind." 



THEORY OF ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS 35 

In like manner, in a dream, several persons may fuse 
into one, because of a common impression they have 
made on us, or because they all have the same sig- 
nificance for us. This is why we often feel that we 
have dreamed of a person or a thing *^ which all the 
same was not precisely that person or that thing." 
It explains, again, the amusing phrases of Marinette 
(six years old), relating a dream which she had 
after I had told her the story of Hercules : ^^I had a 
dream about the lion man. He wasn't father, but 
he was a man who was father. There wasn't any 
lion, but all the same it seemed as if there was a 
lion." Here we have an obvious and simple con- 
densation of father and Hercules. As a typical in- 
stance of condensation I may refer to the dream of 
the youth Eaoul, one of the subjects whose cases are 
discussed in the second part of this book. He 
dreamed of a poste-chaise which was a condensation 
of the family motor car and the school omnibus, or, 
in a more general sense, a condensation of the family 
environment and the school environment ; whilst the 
driver was a condensation of the head master and 
the dreamer's father. The affective state around 
which this condensation had crystallised was a feel- 
ing of constraint and of protest against authority 
(p. 193). In the first dream of the subject Alexan- 
der (p. 300) we have an obvious condensation of his 
home with his friend's house, of his mother with his 
friend's wife, of his father with his friend. 

Condensation is far more conspicuous in dreams 
than in the waking state. Freud goes so far as to 
say that condensation *^has no analogies in the fully 



36 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

conscious state." ^ Broadly this may be true as re- 
gards vigorous condensations, to which Freud ap- 
parently wishes to restrict the term VerdicMung — 
condensations in which the subject cannot distin- 
guish the combined elements. But there are no hard 
and fast lines. Various grades of condensation 
exist. Thus we have composite images (MiscJihil- 
dungen) analogous to the centaur of fable, in which 
the components (man and horse in the case of the 
centaur), though fused into a whole, can readily be 
distinguished. By stages, we pass to looser con- 
densations, and finally we reach the simple evocation 
(affective association) of Claparede. I hold, how- 
ever, that fairly vigorous condensations are met with 
in the waking state. The name is peculiarly ap- 
propriate for those compound memories in which 
the subject believes that his reminiscence is one of 
a single experience, whereas it is in reality a remi- 
niscence of two or three distinct experiences, which 
occurred perhaps at widely separated dates, but 
were all accompanied by the same feeling tone. This 
is especially common in our memories of childhood. 
In the subject Kitty, we note the same thing in recent 
memories. She fuses into one reminiscence a gift 
which she had on her fifteenth birthday and one 
which she had on her sixteenth birthday (p. 195).^ 
Vigorous condensations occur in works of art, in 
pictures or poems, and are preeminently manifesta- 
tions of creative imagination. Speaking generally 

^ Freud, Die Traumdeutnng, p. 462. 

2 This condensation was favoured by a strong association by 
similarity which was superadded to the affective factor. 



THEORY OF ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS 37 

we may say that, other things being equal, conden- 
sation is more vigorous: (1) in a strong affective 
state than in a weak affective state; (2) in dreams 
than in the walcing state. 

The duration of the condensation must be consid- 
ered as well as its degree. Some condensations are 
almost instantaneous, and this is especially frequent 
in dreams. Some, on the other hand, are persistent. 
These latter, of course, are the condensations which 
have been ** cemented" by a powerful emotion or 
feeling, and in this connection the emotions or feel- 
ings of early childhood are of supreme importance. 
Condensations of such a character, enriched in the 
course of life by many kinds of emotions and new 
images, are all the more intricate because their essen- 
tial elements are usually buried in the subconscious. 
One of the main functions of psychoanalysis is to 
*' extricate'' them, to disentangle them. 

We may naturally enquire how so important a 
phenomenon as condensation could have escaped the 
notice of the associationists. One reason is, the 
part the subconscious plays in the matter. Another 
reason is, the peculiar conditions under which con- 
densation takes place. The two states which favour 
the occurrence of condensation, namely dreaming 
and strong emotion, are states over which there is 
little control and in which observation is difficult. 
Nevertheless, ought not the associationists at least 
to have recognised the significance of the lesser de- 
grees of condensation common in the waking state; 
and ought they not to have been careful to distin- 
guish this phenomenon from simple association by 



38 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

similarity? In this case, too, the reason of the omis- 
sion is obvions, and has important implications. The 
reason is that the elements associated or condensed 
through the medium of a common affect, are usually 
associated or condensed in accordance with the ordi- 
nary laws of association (contiguity or similarity). 
To use Freud's terminology, we have here an 
** over-determination" (U eher deter minierung ) , This 
means that the appearance of each element is the 
effect of a conjunction of causes any one of which 
seems competent to produce the effect. Freud speaks 
of over-determination chiefly in the case of images 
resulting from a multiple condensation, and when 
each feature of the image is the climax of a * ^ chain 
of thoughts." But enough attention has not been 
given to the fact that another form of over-deter- 
mination is that in which condensation and simple 
association are simultaneously at work. We may 
express the matter thus : 

1. Among various images susceptible of associa- 
tion by contiguity or by similarity, those which have 
a common feeling tone will most readily become as- 
sociated; 

2. Among various images susceptible of associa- 
tion in virtue of their common feeling tone, those 
which are also susceptible of association by con- 
tiguity or by similarity will most readily become 
associated. 

This I believe to be the real reason why the asso- 
ciationists have overlooked the point. The images 
or ideas linked by a common affect were already 
linked, it seemed, by the ordinary laws of associa- 



THEORY OF ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS 39 

tion. Content with tlie explanation of the associa- 
tion by similarity or by contiguity, the association- 
ists did not realise that there was any need to look 
farther afield. 

Let me give examples from dreams of my own 
which will serve to elucidate this type of over-deter- 
mination. 

In a dream I see a drawing of Christ's head, with 
a crown of thorns that resembles a staircase, which 
is called * ^ automatism. ' ' When the picture is 
turned, it represents the head of Louis XVI and 
also the death-mask of Pascal. 

Here we have a medium degree of condensation, 
for the different images of Christ, Pascal, and Louis 
XVI, which make up the composition, are still dis- 
tinguishable. All three of them died in their prime, 
and all were persons of mark (a god, a genius or a 
saint, and a king). The death-mask of Pascal was 
one which I had drawn when I was sixteen, and had 
hung on the wall of my room. Analysis of the dream 
shows me that it concerns an ' ' ego ' ' which no longer 
exists. It concerns the ardent idealism of youth; 
above all it concerns the religious faith of childhood, 
and childhood reaches its critical term at sixteen. 
The condensation of the three images is obvious, 
but it is also clear that there are simple associations 
between them. The link between Christ and Pascal 
is closer than the other links, for this death-mask 
which I had drawn in former days was framed in 
some of Pascal's thoughts, and one of these was: 
** Christ's passion will endure till the end of the 
world; we must not sleep as long as it lasts." The 



40 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

number 16 forms the link between Louis XVI and 
the drawing of Pascal, wliich I had made when six- 
teen years old. 

The crown of thorns, which is a staircase, and 
which is called automatism, is the outcome of a 
more vigorous condensation. The analysis discloses 
in it a number of elements. The affect which unites 
them is the sense of oppression by the ** automatism 
of life.'* But this automatism is itself a compound. 
First of all, it is the mechanism of nature, of which 
when I was sixteen science had given me the idea 
and the feeling; and this realisation of mechanism 
in nature had initiated my loss of the old faith. 
Secondly, the automatism is the distressing mo- 
notony of daily life. (The staircase was called up 
by a real staircase of three hundred steps, like the 
days of the year; and in addition by Laforgue's 
verse, ^^What a dreadfully daily thing life is!")^ 
Thirdly, the automatism is L'automatisme psycho- 
logique by Pierre Janet, which had been one of the 
first books to turn my attention towards psychology; 
and at the time of my dream I was engaged in 
psychological study and was suffering from over- 
work. There were additional elements in this con- 
densation besides the three I have named. But here 
likewise it is easy to detect the ordinary associa- 
tions between these elements. In this respect the 
name of Janet 's book is typical. The book had been 
brought into the matter both by its title (simple 
association) and by its significance in my life (con- 
densation). Another association, quite superficial, 

^ " Ah que la vie est quotidienne ! " 



THEORY OF ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS 41 

linked the book to the staircase of three hundred 
steps. This staircase was known by the expressive 
name of Tire-Jarret [the calf-puller] , and in record- 
ing another dream in which the staircase had ap- 
peared to me I had, by a slip of the pen, written the 
name Tire-Janet. Superficial associations like this 
have been freely noted in dreams by other authors 
before the days of Freud. Not only do they exist, 
but they exist as between images which may also be 
linked by some deep feeling. This is why Freud 
declares that an indifferent trait common to the be- 
ings who, in a dream, combine to form a composite 
personality (Mischperson) masks the existence, be- 
tween these same beings, of a significant trait, com- 
mon to them, but repressed. More generally,^ he 
declares that behind every superficial association 
(of shape, colour, assonance, etc.) there is hidden a 
deep association between the same elements. As 
the outcome of repression, he contends that there 
has been a displacement of the deep association 
towards the superficial association.^ I do not think 
that the supposition of repression and displacement 
is always necessary in these cases; but the coexist- 
ence of the superficial tie and the deep (affective) 
tie is of frequent occurrence. Associationism takes 
note only of the superficial tie. An associationist 
would have detected the superficial ties in the fore- 
going dream, but he would never have suspected 
that the dream gave expression to regrets for the 
regal and divine life of youth, and to protests 

^ Freud, Die Traumdeutung, p. 239. 
2 Ibid., p. 418. 



42 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

against the mecliaiiisatioii of real life, against the 
overwork and the monotony of the daily round. 

Here is another example, also taken from a dream 
of my own. At first sight the associations seem 
purely superficial, this time of an auditory char- 
acter. 

I awake remembering some fragments of a dream 
in which I have been guided somewhere by a person 
who was like ** Monsieur Laederach." In real life 
this gentleman had played a part in a lawsuit in 
which I had to defend my ideas upon suggestion, 
which, it seemed, had been regarded as revolution- 
ary. An obsolete law against magic had been in- 
voked by the prosecution! The affair had turned 
out all right in the end, but had been very trouble- 
some to begin with. In the half-consciousness of 
waking I attempt to analyse my dream, but first of 
all, beneath the name Laederach I hear, as if in 
harmonics, the words **Leider-ach, Umfrid, Unrat, 
Henrath." Are these merely superficial associa- 
tions? The strange thing is that the closest audi- 
tory association is between the first and the last 
words of the series, between Laederach and Hen- 
rath. It seems to me as if Unrat had been called 
up by Henrath, and Umfrid by Unrat. At the mo- 
ment of waking, I follow the sequence in the reverse 
order. When I have found Henrath, it seems to 
me (I was not sure at the time, but I was able to 
verify the supposition afterwards), that this had 
been the name of a man who, when I was quite 
young, had acted as my guide in a foreign town, and 
who had cheated me extensively. The happenings 



THEORY OF ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS 43 

in this town constituted my first experiences of 
serious action on my own initiative; indeed they 
represented one of the crises of my life, my first 
vigorous attempt to shake off the dominance of en- 
vironment, my first affirmation of my own ideas — 
an affirmation whose outcome was that I was cast 
off by some of the persons most dear to me. (I 
then perceive that the guide, Laederach, of my 
dream had been condensed with Henrath both as 
regards personality and name.) But my dream has 
contained a word-play on the name of Henrath, for 
the last syllable of this name. Eat, means in German 
'^adviser," a term which can well be used to denote 
a guide. I disparage him by calling him Unrat, for 
I interpret this as meaning '*evil counsellor," be- 
fore I recall that it really signifies *^ filth." But 
** Laederach" is also **evil counsellor," which I ex- 
press quite simply by breaking up his name into the 
two German words Leider! Ach! (Alack! Alas!) 
The deep affective tie marked by the superficial as- 
sociations begins to become apparent. The word 
Umfrid, less intimately linked to the others on the 
surface, gives fuller expression to the deeper ties. 
Its signification in my mind is ^*the opposite of 
peace," just as Unrat signifies *Hhe opposite of 
good counsel." Umfrid is also the name of a 
German pastor distinguished during the war for the 
courage with which he championed pacifist views, 
a course of action which led to his persecution. 
Now the ideas which, at the time when I had been 
acquainted with the guide Henrath, had cost me 
some of the dearest friendships of youth, had also 



44 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

been social ideas of a pacifist character, and I had 
bitterly reflected that one who desires peace begins 
by sowing strife in the minds of those around him. 
(Here we have a reminiscence from the Gospels: 
^' Think not that I am come to send peace on earth: 
I came not to send peace, but a sword. For I am 
come to set a man at variance against his father, 
and the daughter against her mother.") A similar 
reflection, less bitter and more ironical, had crossed 
my mind when I had seen how my ideas concerning 
suggestion, which were benevolent and were un- 
questionably pacific, had involved me in a fight. 
The affect which had linked the four words dom- 
inated the entire dream. It was a call for the cour- 
age of self-affirmation; for the courage that is 
needed to emerge from a somewhat pusillanimous 
quietism; to confront life, in spite of all the filth 
(Unrat), all the distresses (Leider! Ach!), and all 
the struggles (Umfrid), which one has to encounter 
during the active realisation of an idea. 

The analysis shows the complexity of such a con- 
densation. Beyond question, this word is an ex- 
tremely general and imperfect label for a number of 
phenomena which must be studied more closely. 
The state which gives rise to a condensation is in 
most cases something much more than a simple 
emotion; it is an affective thought ^ one with very 
definite shades, and each shade (Unrat, Leider-ach, 
Umfrid) has to secure its own expression in one of 
the elements of the condensation. In fact, we have 
a regular network of ideas and images intercon- 
nected in multiform ways. 



THEORY OF ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS 45 

Displacement (Verschiebung) is in point of form 
a simpler and more obvious phenomenon than con- 
densation, though in essence it is perhaps more re- 
markable. We have previously pointed out that it 
is of the same nature as what Ribot terms trans- 
ference, but more comprehensive. The displace- 
ment with which we are concerned is a displacement 
of the affect or affective stress, a displacement in 
virtue of which the feeling or emotion is more or 
less completely detached from its real object in 
order to become attached to another object. It 
might be spoken of as a transference attended by 
forgetfulness, complete or partial, of the point of 
departure. Ribot referred to the way in which rev- 
erence for the person of the monarch may be trans- 
ferred to the throne, to the insignia of power. 
Sometimes the starting-point is entirely forgotten, 
as when the worship of a relic is not superadded to 
but substituted for the worship of a saint. Relig- 
ious ritual and national custom abound in examples 
of such substitutions. They are by no means un- 
common in individual life. Our apparently irra- 
tional preference for certain flowers, or for certain 
colours, frequently depends on the fact that very 
early in life these flowers or colours became asso- 
ciated in our minds with the personality of someone 
to whom we were deeply attached, but whom we 
have now forgotten. Unreasonable fears have, in 
many cases, a like origin. Displacements of the 
same character, but transient, occur from moment 
to moment in dreams. In the child Linette (pp. 149, 
150, dreams I, II, and III), we observe certain ele- 



46 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

mentary displacements, some occurring in the wak- 
ing state and some in dreams. In especial, a little 
nigger doll filches the feeling which had been at- 
tached to a black kitten. Again, a large, white, and 
straight-limbed doll takes the place of the nigger 
doll, which is small, black, and seated like a child in 
a bath. In the latter case we have a displacement 
which is the sequel of an association by contrast. 

It might seem at first sight as if displacement 
were merely the extreme degree of transference, but 
I think we should be wrong to define displacement 
thus. Displacement may occur without transfer- 
ence, I wish to emphasise this point, which is often 
overlooked, for its recognition will enable us pres- 
ently to effect a more comprehensive synthesis. 

Displacement of affective stress may occur within 
the limits of a condensation. In a dream we may 
condense, into an integer, objects to which we have 
reacted in similar fashion, although these reactions 
may have diifered greatly in intensity. We con- 
dense the starting on a railway journey with an an- 
ticipated change in our mode of life. Or we con- 
dense an examination we had to pass in early youth 
with some trial we are undergoing in our adult life, 
and perhaps we add to the condensation a real feel- 
ing of physical distress from which we are suffering 
during sleep.^ Or we may condense a pleasure of 
the table with an erotic pleasure. All these con- 
densations are achieved because the elements are 
associated by a common affect. We cannot in their 

^ During sleep, such a sensation, having no links with an exter- 
nal cause, functions much as if it were an image. 



THEORY OF ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS 47 

case speak of transference (in Ribot^s sense), for 
transference is the extension of an affective state 
to images with which it was not previously asso- 
ciated, whereas here the various images are already 
stamped with the same affect. There is no place 
for transference; but the field is open for a dis- 
placement of affective stress. Such condensations 
are composed of elements of varying importance; 
now, in the dream, the most important element may 
become secondary, and an element of minor impor- 
tance may assume the leading role. When dream- 
ing of an examination, for example, we may cease 
to think of the matter which is troubling us in our 
waking life; we believe that we have merely been 
dreaming of this examination of long anterior date, 
and we are astonished because it seemed so impor- 
tant to us in our dream. /^ 

We are led, therefore, to distinguish two forms of 
displacement : 

1. In a condensation, the secondary element of 
the condensation may become the principal element ; 

2. In a transference, the secondary element (that 
to which the affect is transferred) may become the 
principal element. 

We may therefore define displacement as follows : 
Given an integration of representative elements 

TINGED WITH THE SAME AFFECTIVE SHADE WHETHER BY 

CONDENSATION OR BY TRANSFERENCE^ displacement is 
the worh which tends to detach the feeling or emo- 
tion from its principal object in order to attach it to 
secondary objects. 
But this distinction between two forms of dis- 



^ 



48 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

placement will enable us, upon another foundation, 
to effect a new synthesis. It seems to me that even 
in displacement by transference there is a certain 
amount of condensation. In a dream in which such 
a displacement occurs, the new object of the feeling 
is no longer quite what it was before. Something 
that belonged to the primary object of the feeling 
appears to be transferred to the new object ; certain 
elements of the old object have, as it were, passed 
over in company with the affect. The subject 
Renee, who is pregnant, has a dream (p. 287, dream 
III). In this dream, the womb from which her child 
will come takes the form of a door (portiere) of 
a railway compartment (displacement as a sequel of 
association by similarity) : but the door is not an 
ordinary door ; it is very heavy, and she has to carry 
it (porter — ^perhaps there is a verbal link here be- 
tween the porter and portiere), it is almost too 
much for her. The door, that is to say, is endowed 
with some of the traits belonging to the object which 
it typifies, and it has therefore become the condensa- 
tion of two objects. We might say that when an 
affective state is transferred from one object to an- 
other, there is then realised, as between these two 
objects, that tinging by a common affect which 
makes condensation possible. Consequently, al- 
though transference appeared to us substantially 
the opposite of condensation, we have now to recog- 
nise that transference itself involves a certain 
measure of condensation. Nor need this surprise us 
when, following Freud, we have learned that the 
most superficial associations, the associations which 



THEORY OF ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS 49 

transference makes use of, serve as a rule to mask 
deep, affective associations, whicli are the germ of 
condensation. 

In practice, henceforward, we shall regard every 
displacement of stress as belonging to the first cate- 
gory, and as taking place between condensed ele- 
ments which are of unequal importance. 

This displacement of stress is conspicuous in most 
nightmares. On awaking we feel it was absurd that 
we had been so terribly frightened by some object 
which was hardly important enough to arouse 
alarm. The reason for the alarm was that we had 
displaced to this harmless object the affective stress 
properly attaching to some real cause of distress. 
Our thought had been deformed, much as a word is 
deformed by stressing a syllable which ought not to 
be stressed. One of my subjects dreamed of being 
attacked by a yellow dog. This dream was founded 
upon the reminiscence of an attack actually made 
by a dog during childhood, but the peculiar yellow 
colour of the dream dog was the colour of the waist- 
coat of a doctor who had recently attended the pa- 
tient. Condensation had been effected, so that the 
attack by the dog had been fused with the attack by 
the doctor (the patient's dread of the medical treat- 
ment). But, in the dream, the recent cause of dis- 
tress was almost hidden in the image of the dog 
which had been the old cause of trouble. The sub- 
ject Yvonne (p. 282), who is pregnant, falls asleep 
obsessed with the fear that the birth of her baby will 
take place on a Sunday, and that she will not be 
able to get a doctor. She dreams that the stove- 



50 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

pipe is blocked, that it is Sunday, and that no chim- 
ney-sweep is to be had. Sometimes the main object 
of the emotion, the matter with which the subject 
is chiefly preoccupied, is entirely effaced, thrust 
down into the subconscious ; what should have been 
the stressed word or stressed syllable remains un- 
uttered. 

Displacement, like condensation, may be fugitive 
or persistent. We have said that transient dis- 
placement is frequent in dreams. The symptoms of 
neurosis, on the other hand, are the outcome of 
fixed displacements. For example, the object of an 
intense desire is associated or condensed with a par- 
ticular morbid bodily state; the desire is displaced 
upon the morbid bodily state, which the subject then 
realises (autosuggestion reinforced by the desire^) 
in a stereotyped form, as a tic (habit-spasm, etc.), 
a neuralgia, a contracture, or a paralysis. The sub- 
ject Germaine (p. 340) has a spasm of the eyelid 
which symbolises, for her, marriage and enfran- 
chisement from maternal authority. The subject 
Bertha inflicts upon herself a neuralgia which sjm- 
bolises enfranchisement from her present environ- 
ment and access to a freer and more intellectual life 
(p. 353). Slips of memory, ^^mistakes due to ab- 
sent-mindedness," etc., may be explained in the 
same way as the tics or the neuralgias. They are all 
examples of displacement translated into action. 

Eeference was made above to persistent and in- 
tricate condensations, dating perhaps from early 

^ In this autosuggestion, desire plays the role of auxiliary 
emotion. — See Baudouin, Suggestion and Autosuggestion, p. 114. 



THEORY OF ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS 51 

childhood, and buried more or less deeply in the sub- 
conscious. Such condensations are almost always 
accompanied by displacements. The displacements 
lead to thoughts and actions, which the subject mis- 
interprets, being ignorant of their true origin. The 
name complex, which as generally used in psycho- 
analytical literature lacks precise definition, may be 
applied to such subconscious condensations accom- 
panied by displacements. The subject Otto (p. 
244) hates singing when the singer is a man; he is 
clean-shaven and he imagines it is for aesthetic rea- 
sons that he wants no hair on his face; bellicose 
sentiments revolt him, and he believes that this aver- 
sion is conditioned by purely philosophical reasons ; 
he is retiring and awkward in ordinary life: these 
are all manifestations of a complex of protest 
against the father and of refusal of virility , which 
is subconscious, but which the analysis brings to the 
surface and disentangles. 

Acquired tendencies are in large measure deter- 
mined by complexes; the character is moulded by 
them ; they masquerade as inborn traits. 

We are now in a position to summarise the chief 
laws of affective association. 

1. Evocation (Claparede) or affective associa- 
tion. Two ideas tinged with the same emotion or 
feeling tend to call one another up mutually. 

2. Condensation (in Freud's terminology, Ver- 
dichtung). This resembles evocation, but the ideas 
(images) are fused instead of being merely asso- 
ciated. Condensation is an extreme form of affec- 
tive association. We pass from simple evocation 



52 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

to condensation by insensible gradations (weak con- 
densations, composite images). 

3. Transference (B-ibot). The emotion or the 
feeling attached to an object (or idea) is extended 
to the objects (or ideas) associated therewith in ac- 
cordance with the ordinary laws of association (con- 
tiguity, similarity, sometimes contrast). 

4. Displacement (in Freud's terminology, VeT" 
schiehwig). Given an integration of representative 
elements tinged with the same affective shade 
(whether by condensation or by transference), but 
unequal in importance; displacement is the work 
which tends to detach the feeling or emotion from 
its principal object in order to attach it to secondary 
objects. 

5. Over-determination^ The elements which are 
associated (condensed) in virtue of their being 
tinged with a common affect, are usually associated 
as well in virtue of the objective laws of association 
(contiguity, similarity, contrast). 

We see that these new (affective) laws, far from 
claiming to replace the old (objective) laws of the 
associationists, are continually invoking the aid of 
the old laws. The earlier experimental work upon 
association by no means loses its value; it gains a 
new value, and calls for fresh experimental work to 
round it off. Bleuler has understood how much 
light these experiments upon association can throw 
**upon the unconscious and upon diagnosis";^ and 

^ We use this term in a more restricted sense than that in 
which it is used by Freud. 
2 Bleuler, Ueber die bedeutung von Assoziationsversuchen, p. 6. 



THEORY OF ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS 53 

C. G. Jung, working on the same lines, has carried 
on in Zurich extensive and able researches on asso- 
ciation, both in normal persons and in persons suf- 
fering from mental disorder. Jung considers that 
in this way he has secured statistical confirmation 
of Freud's ideas. Errors in the reproduction of 
associations already made, marked divergences 
whether by excess or by defect from the average 
time of association, serve to reveal complexes 
(gefuhlsbetonte Komplexe).^ 

The foregoing laws apply both to the waking state 
and to the dream state. Dreams are characterised 
by a bewildering multiplicity of rapid and rich con- 
densations and of instantaneous displacements. 

3. Dreaming and Action 

We have said (p. 37) that condensation is more 
vigorous : 

1. In strong affective states than in weak affec- 
tive states; 

2. In dreams than in the waking state. 

Can these two propositions be subsumed under 
one formula! In other words, have affectivity and 
dreaming a common element? 

Eignano maintains the paradoxical theory that 
dreaming is non-affective. We must point out, how- 
ever, that this author distinguishes between ** af- 
fect'' and *^ emotion," and that he does not deny the 

^ C. G. Jung, Psychoanalyse und Assoziationsexperiment, p. 
258. — Regarding Jung^s experiments upon association time, ef. 
Regis et Hesnard, op. cit., p. 140. 



54 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

^* emotivity" of dreams. If, therefore, we had to 
accept Ms view that there are no feelings [senti- 
ments^ in dreams, we must nevertheless realise that, 
in dreams, feelings exist in a latent form. These 
latent feelings would be competent to explain the 
condensations (just as, in an association by similar- 
ity, the consciousness of a similarity of low degree 
may not be apparent to the mind). However this 
may be, what Rignano writes about dreams is the 
weak point in his admirable theory concerning the 
atfectivity of the intellectual life. This theory 
would gain in strength and unity if it were general- 
ised so as to apply to the representative life as a 
whole, and especially to the life of dreams.^ Frank 
introspection, and psychoanalysis, which is an intro- 
spection induced by the analyst, are continually giv- 
ing evidence that the substratum of dreams is 
strongly affective.^ 

Conversely, affective states in the waking life are 
imaginative states and tend to induce reverie. Af- 
fectivity and imagination run in couples. The 
poet's liveliest images are dictated by intense emo- 
tion. These are familiar facts; but the analysis of 
condensations renders our knowledge of them more 
precise. Vigorous condensation, the outcome of a 
strong affect, is the preeminent characteristic of 
creative imagination, AfPectivity influences asso- 
ciation much as heat influences certain mechanical 
mixtures, changing the mechanical mixtures into a 

^ Baudouin, The affective Basis of Intelligrence. 
2 So that Freud defines a dream as an imaginary wish fulfil- 
ment. 



THEORY OF ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS 55 

chemical compound. Perhaps we are wrong in 
using the term creative imagination; it is the affect 
(conscious or subconscious) which is the creator, 
and which synthetises the images into new uni- 
ties. 

All this, however, was implicit in the psychology 
of condensation. What we must discover is 
whether there exists any other likeness between the 
affective state and the dream state, which may serve 
as a support to condensation. The main likeness 
would seem to be that neither of them is active. 
Doubtless affectivity precedes and guides action ; we 
may even say that this is its biological function ; but 
it discharges itself into the action and loses itself 
therein. Hunger is an affective sensation which in- 
cites to the act of eating, but disappears in propor- 
tion as hunger is satisfied by eating. If the affective 
state is to be maintained, the primary essential is 
that it should not be completely discharged in action. 
** Possession is the death of love," said one of my 
subjects. Thus we may contrast ^^affectives" with 
** actives." Now it is when activity is maintained 
in such a fashion, i.e., when the discharge of affect 
into action is incomplete, that it is accompanied by 
imaginative production, reverie, condensation. 
Imagination, dreaming (in the sense of reverie), 
thus manifest themselves as substitutes for unreal- 
ised action; they presuppose a surcharge of affect, 
a surplus of undischarged affect. During sleep we 
have analogous conditions ; sleep is characterised by 
the suspension of motor activity. It is then that we 
have dreams, which are nothing but pent-up activity. 



56 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

Freud's concept of regression^ comprises a num- 
ber of diverse phenomena, such as an imaginative 
return to scenes of infancy, the translation of ab- 
stract thought into images, etc. But, essentially, 
regression is what we have just been describing : the 
suspension of motor reactions; and the phenomenon 
whereby the mental stream, pent-up as if by a dam, 
undergoes a reflux into imagination and dreams. 
The Freudian idea of regression is challengeable 
for the very reason that it is too comprehensive, em- 
bracing phenomena which, though they are linked, 
are preferably distinguished; nevertheless, through 
the Freudian concept of regression our attention 
has been drawn to the affiliation of the phenomena 
in question. What Freud speaks of as ** regres- 
sion'' has traits in common with what Jung terms 
''introversion," with what Pierre Janet ^ describes 
as a relaxation of the '* function of the real" and as 
** derivation, " and with what Bergson refers to as 
''inattention to the present life." 

We should be wrong to consider regression as 
necessarily morbid. When we study the matter 
from the medical side we are sometimes compelled 
to do so, for we then have to deal with unmistakably 
morbid regressions, such as the neuroses. This re- 
flection justifies the gradations established by Janet 
among psychological phenomena. He writes: "If 
this fixing of gradations is to be genuinely inter- 
esting and useful, we must formulate them, not from 
the outlook of our artistic or moral preferences but 

^ Freud, Die Traumdeutung, pp. 427 et seq. 

* Janet, Les obsessions et la psychasthenic^ vol. i. 



i 



THEORY OF ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS 57 

from the outlook of life, health, and illness.'' ^ The 
purely psychological outlook is different, and Berg- 
son is careful to avoid implying that what he calls 
** inattention to the present life" is necessarily mor- 
bid; for this inattention, this temporary detachment 
from useful action and practical life is what renders 
possible the development of the spiritual life. The 
defect of the term ** regression" is that it has dis- 
paraging connotations. If we continue to use it, 
we must detach it from such ideas. Motor activity 
is doubtless the normal way of reacting to impres- 
sions, but we must not therefore infer that the sus- 
pension of motor activity is morbid or in any sense 
^ inferior." Were this conclusion true, uncon- 
trolled reflex action would be the standard of nor- 
mality. But the whole of mental development is 
founded upon suspensions of motor activity. Inhi- 
bition, the activity which does not take the form of 
immediate action, but is ^'pent up," determines the 
passage from reflex action to instinct ; it determines 
the appearance of consciousness, whose specialty 
seems to be the storing up of possible reactions, the 
forming of combinations between them, and the 
choosing from among them, instead of allowing 
them to discharge invariably and mechanically 
along the same path (reflex action). Conscious- 
ness is an accumulator and a commutator. May 
it not be that states of vigorous condensation are 
the same things to an even higher degree, since they 
give rise to creative imagination? Even from the 
outlook of action, we must not underestimate 
^ Janet, Les obsessions et la psyeliasthenie, p. 477. 



58 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

dreams. The dam whereby for a brief space the 
mental stream is pent up may serve to give us, as it 
were, a head of water, so that the accumulated 
energy may in the end find vent in a more effective 
discharge. 

From the new outlook we have reached through 
the study of condensation, all the psychology of per- 
ception and of dreams needs revision. I cannot now 
discuss the matter, and I merely point it out. Ob- 
viously we have here an extensive and fresh field 
for investigation. 

In a lecture delivered in 1901, Bergson ^ sketched 
a noteworthy theory of dreams, which he now re- 
gards as capable of being rounded off by Freud's 
theory.^ Bergson insisted on the part played by the 
sleeper's sensations in the elaboration of the dream 
(retinal patches or ^^phosphenes," noises from 
without, kinsesthetic sensations) ; but his original 
contribution is the way in which he shows how these 
sensations call up a number of memories, and give 
body to them, to constitute the dream. A retinal 
sensation of a green patch with white points may 
successively or simultaneously become a field with 
sheep on it or a billiard table with its balls. This 
has analogies with condensation ; but in addition to 
the combination of images one with another, there 
is a combination of images with sensations. We 
might add that this latter combination, just like con- 
densation, is established upon the effective founda- 

1 Bergson, L'energie spirituelle, pp. 91, et seq. 

2 Ibid., p. 114, note. 



THEORY OF ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS 59 

tion which is supplied from moment to moment by 
the sensations of the sleeper, and especially by his 
kinsesthetic sensations. But Bergson shows that 
man's mode of perception in the waking state does 
not, in this respect, differ from his mode of percep- 
tion in dreams/ In both cases, perception is a com- 
bination of crude sensation and of memory. We 
know that when we are readinng we do not really 
perceive all the letters; we project our memories to 
fiU out sketchy perceptions ; and the actual percep- 
tion is the result of the amalgam; our perception 
has in it hallucinatory elements. The difference be- 
tween (waking) perception and a dream is that in 
the former the memories which are superadded to 
the sensation are carefully selected with an eye to 
utility and possible action, whereas in the dream no 
such selection takes place. Both in perception, then, 
and in the dream, a process of combination occurs 
which reminds us of condensation, and which, like 
condensation, presupposes an affective basis. 

But the affectivity which underlies the combina- 
tion known as ** perception '' is essentially useful in 
character. It may be the outcome of the duplex 
affective state (interest, dread of making a mistake) 
which, according to Eignano, lies at the basis of at- 
tention.^ On the other hand, the affectivity which 
underlies the dream is disinterested; and it is pre- 
cisely this *^ disinterest '' which, according to both 
Bergson and Claparede, characterises sleep. If the 
disinterest were complete, we should arrive at Eig- 

^ Bergson, Matiere et memoire, passim. 
^Rignano, Psychologie du raisonnement, p. 49. 



60 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

nano 's theory of non-aff ectivity ; but it seems better 
to insist that the suspension of interest relates es- 
sentially to interest in useful action. 

The theory of perception and of dreaming will be 
elucidated by a careful study of hallucination. Con- 
densations occur in hallucinations, just as they occur 
in dreams ; and the condensations of the former can 
be analysed in the same way as the condensations of 
the latter; furthermore, a well-marked affective 
state is dominant in hallucination. Mourgue, in a 
detailed work on hallucination, attaches considerable 
importance to the idea of Leuret, of Tours, who 
speaks of **twilit states''; Leuret declares that 
'^ there are no hallucinations, but only hallucinatory 
states."^ But the form of hallucination which is 
of especial interest in connection with the theory of 
perception and dreaming is what I have called ** hal- 
lucination by compromise,"^ in which the subject 
makes use of real perceptions and modifies them in 
the sense of his vision, to which they give a body. 
Here we have the same phenomenon as that noted 
by Bergson in the case of dreams (the transforma- 
tion of the green retinal patch into a meadow or a 
billiard table). Of course the real sensation calls 
up the image in virtue of an association by similar- 
ity, but there can be no doubt that it likewise calls 
it up in virtue of an affective association which un- 
derlies the condensation. When the real object per- 

1 Mourgue, Etude critique sur revolution des idees relatives a 
la nature des hallucinations vraies. 

^Baudouin, Suggestion et autosuggestion, pp. 34 et seq.; 
English translation, pp. 47 et seq. 



THEORY OF ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS 61 

ceived by the poet spontaneously becomes image and 
symbol, both these processes are also at work. It is 
probable that in every hallucination we could detect 
such a compromise to a certain extent; it occurs in 
dreams, and it occurs in perception. According as 
the nature of the affectivity varies in each case, we 
find a different form of compromise. 

Dream states have been contrasted with states of 
attention. It has been said that attention is a re- 
striction of the field of consciousness, whereas 
dreaming (and reverie) are an expansion thereof. 
This is true. But we learn something more when 
we agree with Bergson that the restriction of the 
field of consciousness is mainly the outcome of the 
requirements of useful action. As for Freud, he 
helps us to specify under what form the expansion 
of consciousness occurs in dreams and states of 
imagination ; preeminently, this form is a condensa- 
tion consisting of multiple elements. Experience 
shows further that dream states and states of imag- 
ination are states of ^^outcropping" of the subcon- 
scious.^ We may also say, states of symbolism, in 
which affectivity, predominantly subconscious, is 
constantly undergoing translation into images. 

If the dream is a suspension of the active facul- 
ties, and if logical and rational thought is essentially 
directed towards action, it need not surprise us to 
find that when we dream we ^Hhink in images" like 
the great poets. We can also understand why 

^ Baudouin, Suggestion et autosuggestion, pp. 106 et seq. ; 
English translation, pp. 128 et seq. 



62 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

Freud makes thinking in images one of the charac- 
teristics of what he terms *' regression.'^ In espe- 
cial, he shows, how even logical relationships appear 
in dreams as imagery — a simple succession, for ex- 
ample, representing causality.^ But the symbolism 
of dreams is mainly the subjective expression of 
affectivity. Freud seems to reserve the name of 
*' symbol' ' for the collective symbols that are the 
outcome of associations which are deeply embedded 
in the psyche of the race. This is why he says that 
**the task of the analyst is not rendered easier but 
more difficult by the existence of symbols in dreams. 
The technique of interpretation by the free associa- 
tions of the dreamer is not usually valid for sym- 
bolic elements."^ But the significance of the term 
symbol speedily became enlarged in psychoanalysis. 
It is proper to admit that a symbol is the natural 
outcome of the interaction of the laws of condensa- 
tion and displacement. In a condensation, the 
various images condensed through the instrumental- 
ity of one affective thought, are symbolic of that 
thought; in a displacement, the accessory who or 
which has taken the stress, is symbolic of the prin- 
cipal who or which has forfeited it. In a dream of 
my own recorded on pp. 39 et seq., the heads of 
Christ, Pascal, and Louis XVI symbolised a mental 
state of regret for the days of adolescence; the 
crown of thorns which was like a staircase sym- 
bolised the feeling of oppression produced by the 
automatism of life. In Yvonne's dream (p. 282), 

^ Freud, Die Traumdeutung, pp. 236 et seq. 
2 Ibid., p. 26. 



THEORY OF ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS 63 

the chimney-sweep symbolised the accoucheur. 
When we understand the laws of condensation and 
displacement, the symbolism of dreams and states 
of imagination is no longer mysterious. Collective 
symbols do not differ in their nature; they merely 
presuppose that the condensations and displace- 
ments on which they depend are such as occur in a 
very large number of minds (or, perhaps, that they 
have been hereditarily transmitted in accordance 
with Darwin's opinion concerning the inheritance 
of associations). Furthermore, if it is true (as 
Freud maintains) that the free associations of the 
subject are hardly applicable in explanation of these 
collective symbols, the interpretation of the latter 
requires extreme discretion, for it is by the associa- 
tions which occur in our subject that we are enabled 
to interpret the symbolism of his dreams without 
interpolating our own fancies. 

I do not propose to give details here concerning 
the technique of such an interpretation. I consider 
that this technique is essentially based upon the dif- 
ference between vigorous condensation and weak 
condensation. If we ask a subject in the waking 
state to follow the thread of the associations of 
ideas which come to him apropos of his dream, we 
secure what is tantamount to a decondensation of 
the dream. The elements which had become sub- 
conscious owing to a vigorous displacement, like- 
wise reappear in these associations. It now be- 
comes possible to see in what sense the various asso- 
ciations must be understood in order to form a 
logical whole. 



64 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

Freud lias been greatly struck by displacements 
of affective stress, and this strange pbenomenon of 
a transposition of values was certainly calculated 
to rivet the attention. Nevertheless it would be an 
exaggeration to say that every dream is substan- 
tially built up upon such transpositions. We shall 
do well to remember that condensation, not dis- 
placement, is the primary law of dreams; that 
condensation is invariable in dreams ; that displace- 
ment itself occurs within condensations ; and finally 
that condensation, quite apart from displacement, 
is theoretically adequate to produce symbolisation. 
Freud has himself noted the ^^ plurality of the mean- 
ings of the dream" ;^ and Pfister writes, '^symbols 
are inexhaustible. ' ' ^ This multiplicity is the out- 
come of condensation. In the case of dreams no less 
than in the case of poems we should be wrong to 
represent the symbol as an integer consisting of 
only two terms. This is true of an allegory, coldly 
and deliberately constructed by a sterile imagina- 
tion. But the symbol is essentially manifold; it is 
a note rich in overtones, and on this depends its 
power of calling up associations. Through the 
working of displacement, one or other overtone may 
be reinforced at the cost of the fundamental tone. 
But we must never lose sight of the integer; and, 
in fact, is there in this integer a tone which, ob- 
jectively regarded, is fundamental The greater or 

1 Freud, Die Traumdeutung, pp. 208, 254. 

2 Pfister, Was bietet die Psyehanalyse dem Erzieher, p. 84; 
French translation, p. 147; Englisli translation, p. 126. (In 
the English version, "symbols" is misprinted "symptoms.") 



THEORY OF ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS 65 

less importance assigned to this or that element is 
a judgment of value, and our judgments of value are 
determined by our outlook. This is why several 
alternative interpretations of a dream are possible, 
and why they are not mutually exclusive. 

Let me give another example from one of my own 
dreams. I dream of a mummy who is King Charles 
X, and who holds a pen in his hand without being 
able to write. The wall crumbles into dust which 
falls on the mummy's sleeve, and he shakes his arm 
to get rid of the dust. I wake in a fright, to find 
that my head is lying awkwardly on my right arm, 
which is ^^dead," and in which I feel *^pins and 
needles." In the half -waking state these pins and 
needles seem to me identical with the dust which I 
have just seen falling upon the mummy's sleeve, and 
I see each pinprick as if it were a grain of dust. 
The sensation which has served as the point of de- 
parture of the dream is obvious, and we are entitled 
to suppose that the dream symbolises the sensation. 
On the other hand, this sensation has entered into 
a compromise with deeply submerged psychic ele- 
ments. I need not give all the details of the analy- 
sis, but it is not difficult to recognise in my dream 
the same complex as that which underlay the dream 
of the three heads recorded on pp. 39 et seq. (Ob- 
vious is the association between Louis XVI and 
Charles X ; the mummy of my dream was the remin- 
iscence of a real mummy I had seen when I was 
fifteen years old, and its figure was such as I must 
have had at that age.) We are therefore justified 
in assuming that the dream about the mummy sym- 



66 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

bolised the same complex. Which is more * impor- 
tant,'' the sensation of pins and needles in the arm, 
or the complex? Manifestly the answer depends 
upon our outlook. To a physiologist, the former is 
more important; to a psychologist, the latter. A 
fortiori, in the complex itself, in which there are 
several divergent elements (intellectual, religious, 
aesthetic, political, and sexual), are we entitled to 
say confidently that one element or another is more 
''important"? 

To me it seems rather that a dream resembles an 
orchestra. A number of instruments are playing; 
sometimes one is dominant, sometimes another. At 
will, the ear can follow the notes of one instrument 
or another; the importance assigned to any particu- 
lar instrument remains purely subjective to the 
auditor. Hence arises the possibility of various 
interpretations and of very different theories. 
Probably the sexual basis of dreams, so sturdily 
envisaged by Freud, is almost invariable; no less 
invariable, perhaps, is the basis of organic sensa- 
tions supervening during slumber. But we must 
never lose sight of the ''plurality of the meanings 
of the dream''; we must never cease to attend to the 
orchestra as a whole. 



CHAPTER THREE 

DYNAMICS OF THE AFFECTIVE LIFE, AND THE EVOLUTION 
OF INSTINCTS 

1. The Fimction of the Dream^ — Dreaming and 

Play 

We have been led to the conclusion that dreams, 
and indeed imaginative activities in general, are 
symbolical of the affective life, and especially of 
subconscious affectivity. This symbolism is equiv- 
alent to a disguise. But those are inaccurate ex- 
ponents who declare apriori that the disguise is 
purposive, and who say: **The function of the 
dream is to disguise an affective thought ; with that 
end in view, the dream employs different processes, 
notably condensation, which amalgamates several 
images into an irrecognisable blend, and displace- 
ment, which substitutes one image for another." 
Phraseology of this kind is permissible in a sum- 
mary exposition or in a popular essay, when the 
writer's sole aim is to give a general and striking 
account of psychoanalysis. It is, however, unsatis- 
factory from the scientific point of view. We may 
point out that Freud begins by expounding the laws 
of condensation and displacement. Not until after 

^ Under "dream states'' I include reverie in the waking state, 
poetic creation, etc., as well as dreams during sleep. These last 
are typical of all the states in question. 

67 



68 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

that exposition does lie consider the disguise which 
results from condensation and displacement; and 
this belongs to what we have called the second cate- 
gory of psychoanalysis. Whatever may be the an- 
swer given to the question concerning the function 
of the dream, the structural description of the two 
laws will be unaffected. 

The celebrated Freudian theory of the censorship 
and of repression is one answer to the question as 
to the function of the dream. We may summarise 
the theory as follows. Eepresentations and feel- 
ings prohibited by prevailing systems of moral and 
social ideas, and for that reason felt to be shameful 
and distressing, are automatically forced down into 
the ** unconscious." In dream states, control and 
** censorship" are relaxed, and part of the re- 
pressed content of the unconscious finds its 
way back to the surface; but the censorship, how- 
ever sleepy it may be, is still awake, and the re- 
pressed content of the mind can only make its 
appearance in consciousness by ^* showing a white 
paw," by disguising itself. This process of dis- 
guise, which renders the distressing ideas irrecog- 
nisable, and therefore less distressing, may be 
considered to function as the ** guardian of 
sleep." ^ 

The present writer has no wish to depreciate the 
theory of the ** censorship," which has been one of 
the most valuable contributions of Freudian psy- 
chology. The theory was suggested by the study of 
hysteria ; it has helped to elucidate many of the ob- 

1 Freud, Die Traumdeutung, pp. 432 et seq., and 446 et seq. 



DYNAMICS OF THE AFFECTIVE LIFE 69 

scurer problems both of this disease and of normal 
psychology. But the question we have now to con- 
sider is whether the theory of the censorship is en- 
titled to take its place as a general explanation of 
dream states. 

Other psychoanalysts have looked at the matter 
in a different way. Nevertheless, their ideas have 
been borrowed from Freud, for Freud's outlooks, 
cursory sometimes but unquestionably those of a 
man of genius, have sweepingly and vigorously em- 
braced most of the aspects of the problem. In 
general, therefore, the modifications that have been 
made in his theory by other investigators consist 
merely of a modified dosage of the various elements 
which Freud himself contributed. 

Freud, for instance, drew attention to those con- 
stituents of the dream which are not merely infan- 
tile, but archaic. Writing of symbols (collective 
symbols), he says: **That which is to-day linked 
under the form of the symbol has presumably con- 
stituted at the outset a conceptual and verbal 
unity." ^ 

He considers that the thoughts of primitive men 
display striking analogies with our own dreams, 
and he includes the idea of this resemblance in his 
polymorphic concept of ** regression.'' C. G. Jung 
lays considerable stress upon this archaic aspect of 
dream states. We dream, he says in substance, as 
our ancestors thought, and as children think to-day. 
The conceptions which presided over the languages, 
laws, and religions of primitive men, reappear in us 

^ Freud, Die Traumdeutung, p. 261. 



70 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

in the form of dreams/ The reappearance of the 
motifs of ancient myths in the dreams and the de- 
liriums of modern man, is a fascinating theme of 
study.^ 

From this it is but a step to the theory of W. H. 
E. Eivers, who finds fault with the Freudian ** cen- 
sorship" for its * ' teleologicaP ' character. Accord- 
ing to Eivers it is needless to suppose that there 
occurs in the dream an intentional process of dis- 
guise, or one directed towards a biological goal. 
To understand the dream, he says, we have to accept 
the view that the mental life consists of superposed 
stages (respectively corresponding, doubtless, to the 
successive grades of nerve centres). The upper- 
most stage, the last storey to have been built, is that 
of voluntary and rational phenomena. Now, as 
Eibot^ and Janet among others have shown, the 
most recently acquired psychic phenomena are the 
least stable. According to this view, the dream 
would represent a suspension of the phenomena of 
the latest stage (the idea is an old one) ; conse- 
quently — and this is the important point — the dream 
must necessarily be a return to earlier forms of 
thought. Hence dreaming is not symbolical in 
order to achieve a disguise. It is symbolical merely 
because it is a *' regression" to archaic and infantile 
modes of thought, to modes of thought which are 

^ C. G. Jung, Wandlungen nnd Symbole der Libido, pp. 7-37; 
Psychology of the Unconscious, pp. 3-41. 

2 C. Schneiter, Archaische Elemente in den Wahnideen eines 
Paranoiden. 

^ Cf . Ribot, Les maladies de la personnalite, introduction and 
conclusion. 



DYNAMICS OF THE AFFECTIVE LIFE 71 

essentially symbolic.^ This point of view seems to 
have been generally accepted by British and Ameri- 
can psychoanalysts.^ 

The problem of the function of the dream as a 
means of disguise will become clearer if we sub- 
divide it. The disguise is effected in accordance 
with the working of the laws of condensation and 
displacement; furthermore, condensation and dis- 
placement contribute unequally. Condensation 
simply confuses the issues; the real disguise is the 
outcome of displacement. If the only phenomena 
we had had to consider had been those of condensa- 
tion, it is highly probable that the question of a 
purposive disguise would never have been raised. 
On the other hand, the importance which Freud 
gives to this question arises from the way in which, 
as previously noted, he has been especially struck 
by the phenomenon of displacement — for displace- 
ment is disconcerting, and is very apt to arouse the 
impression that it must be the work of a mischievous 
imp. It behooves us, therefore, to study condensa- 
tion and displacement separately in this connection. 

We have considered condensation as the funda- 
mental law of dreams ; in general, also, as the acute 
form of affective association. In the latter respect, 
the phenomenon is no stranger than simple associa- 
tion by contiguity or similarity. Doubtless, such 
phenomena could be expressed in the terms of a 

^Rivers, Freud's Concept of the Censorship. 
2 S. E. Jelliffe and Zenia X., Psychoanalysis and Compulsion 
Neurosis. 



72 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

theory as to their purpose, a functional theory; but 
it is another question whether we as yet possess the 
elements upon which an adequate theory of this char- 
acter could be founded. If, however, we remember 
that condensation lies at the very base of creative 
imagination, and that the latter is to some extent a 
primary condition of all progress, we shall catch a 
glimpse of the direction in which we may fruitfully 
look in order to discover the function of condensa- 
tion. Whereas association by contiguity and asso- 
ciation by similarity (objective associations) inform 
us regarding the fixed elements of external reality 
and favour our adaptation to that reality, condensa- 
tion (affective association) enables us to conceive 
new combinations in conformity with our affective 
needs and preparatory to actions which will modify 
external reality so as to adapt it to these needs. 
We certainly have no longer any right to ignore the 
'* regressive*' (archaic and infantile) elements of 
dream states ; but we must be no less careful not to 
forget that dreams are manifestations of creative 
imagination. Now creative imagination is what in- 
spires every new action and every discovery. A 
condensation summarises our affective experience 
just as a concept summarises our objective experi- 
ence. Both are essential as concerns our action 
upon things. In the dream, action is suspended, but 
it is suspended in order that we may prepare the 
better for action in the future. The Iliad incites 
Alexander to conquer the world. 

In a word, condensation is the essence of creative 
imagination, and the function of the latter is easily 



DYNAMICS OF THE AFFECTIVE LIFE 73 

understood. The intelligence, we repeat, ensures 
for our adaptation to the real; the imagination en- 
sures adaptation of the real to ourselves. Of 
course intelligence may sometimes construct systems 
of abstractions which lack solid foundation, and 
imagination may wander into the realm of pure 
fantasy; in such cases these functions have turned 
aside from their goal, as any function may turn 
aside; they are at play. 

But play itself is an adaptive function. It has 
been luminously described as such by Karl Groos.^ 
Claparede ^ and the modern educational reformers 
base on the recognition of this the stress they lay 
upon the role of play in education. If, with such an 
idea in our minds, we turn to consider the law of 
displacement, we can hardly fail to see that this lat- 
ter has a similar function. 

Claparede has outlined a **play theory" of 
dreams, comparing them to play as this is under- 
stood by Karl Groos. This play would be precisely 
what we have noted above, an exercise of creative 
imagination. The notion harmonises with Clap- 
arede 's general theory of sleep; for Claparede re- 
gards sleep as an active process, as an instinct, as 
something with positive functions. He writes: 
**To some degree, from the biological outlook, 
dreaming would have a function analogous to that 

^ Groos, Die Spiele der Tiere, 1896 ; Die Spiele der Menschen, 
1899. 

2 Claparede, La psychologie de I'enf ant, pp. 430-61 ; Experi- 
mental Pedagogy, pp. 121-38. 



74 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

wMcli Groos ascribes to play; its role would be the 
exercise of certain activities (creative imagination, 
etc.) which are useful to the species, but which have 
not always a chance of activity in the individual 
life.''^ 

Claparede further points out that Flournoy noted 
the same ^*play character'' in the productions of 
mediums — ^phenomena which are doubtless akin to 
dreams.^ The play theory of the dream has been 
further elaborated by one of the psychoanalysts of 
the Jung school, Maeder, who looks upon dreams as 
a preparation for life. Freud's criticism of this 
idea^ does not settle the question, for it is based 
upon a preconceived theory. Freud complains that 
the elements to which Maeder appeals do not prop- 
erly belong to the dream because they are not un- 
conscious; but the question at issue is precisely 
whether the dream is necessarily the expression of 
elements thrust down into the unconscious, and dis- 
guised. Moreover, whereas the problem remains 
difficult so long as we contemplate the dream in- 
tegrally, it is greatly simplified when we confine our 
attention to the law of displacement. 

We cannot fail to be struck by the similarity be- 
tween displacement in dreams and displacement in 
play. This perpetual substitution of objects indif- 
ferent in themselves for the real objects of interest, 
this way of representing persons and things by sub- 

^ Claparede, Theorie biologique du sommeil, p. 325. 

2 Flournoy, Nouvelles observations sur un cas de sonmambu- 
lisme, p. 248. 

3 Freud, Die Traumdeutung", p. 451. 



DYNAMICS OF THE AFFECTIVE LIFE 75 

stitutes whose analogy with what they represent is 
sometimes exceedingly remote, is not this the 
method of the child at play! For such a child, a stick 
between the legs becomes a horse ; a carpet is the sea ; 
a bundle of rags is a doll. In most cases, the dis- 
placement is transitory and not very profound. 
But the child may at times forget the point of de- 
parture, may treat the substitute as if it really were 
what it represents, may beat a playmate like a real 
enemy (and perhaps be very sorry for it after- 
wards). Or a chUd may mercilessly pull off a but- 
terfly's wings, and when chidden may quietly an- 
swer: *^But IVe only moved it from the air-force 
into an infantry regiment!" 

Need we add that symbolical realisations of de- 
sire find their place in play as in dream? A child 
at play endows itself with attributes which it 
*^ dreams" of acquiring. 

We shall be told this merely proves that dreams 
are manifestations of an infantile mode of thought. 
So be it! We can do no more than apply a cor- 
rective to Freud's thesis by emphasising one of 
Freud's own ideas. What else can one do with this 
titan of forerunners! It is true that dreams are 
manifestations of an infantile mode of thought ; but 
for that very reason dreams must in certain respects 
resemble play, and one of the functions of the dream 
must be closely interconnected with the function of 
play. 

If the dream resembles play in its content, it re- 
sembles play likewise in its conditions. Play has 
long been regarded as a manifestation of surplus 



76 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

energy. Since the publication of Groos's books we 
have come to realise that the surplus here in ques- 
tion is that of an instinctive tendency which has not 
yet found (or which in some cases has lost) its true 
goal ; and which is therefore dissipated upon various 
objects. For such a tendency, play is an outlet and 
an exercise. In this way, playing with dolls is an 
outlet and exercise for the embryonic materal in- 
stinct; chess, and various competitive sports, are 
outlets for the combative instinct.^ In our second 
example, and speaking generally as far as concerns 
the games of grown-ups, it is more appropriate to 
speak of an unemployed instinct than of an embry- 
onic instinct. The sports of adults are outlets of 
unemployed instincts. 

Similar considerations apply to dreams. We 
have recognised the existence in dreams of *' pent- 
up action, ' ' that is to say, a tendency which has en- 
countered some obstacle to its free expansion. The 
dream is an outlet for the tendency (we shall see by 
and by to what extent the dream may also serve to 
exercise embryonic tendencies). The difference is 
that in play the outlet takes the form of subsidiary 
action; whereas in the dream, action remains imag- 
inary. But in play, imagination participates quite 
as much as action; and, conversely, a dream may 
become definitely active and may culminate in som- 
nambulism. Numberless gradations exist. These 
are plays of imagination. Art, which some theorists 
compare with play and others with dreaming, is in 
truth a synthesis of the two. 
^ Bovet, Uinstinct combatif . 



DYNAMICS OF THE AFFECTIVE LIFE 77 

We thus return by a devious route to Freud's 
formula that the dream is the fulfilment of a wish. 
Most people are inclined to object that the dream is 
a manifestation of other emotions besides wishes, 
including fears. Freud definitely declares that the 
dream is a disguised wish fulfilment. Let us put 
the matter more cautiously by saying that the dream 
is a symbolical wish fulfilment, understanding by 
the term ^* symbolical" the joint action of the laws 
of condensation and displacement. This does not 
imply that a censorship aiming at disguise is neces- 
sarily at work. Nevertheless it is certain that, as- 
suming the existence of these laws, the censorship 
insists upon their being put into operation. In 
practice, no doubt, there is an element of ** dis- 
guise '^ in most dreams. 

However there is no need to invoke the idea of 
disguise to enable us to infer that a dream in which 
the dreamer feels afraid, a nightmare for example, 
is at bottom likewise the expression of a wish. 
*^The dream is the expression of a wish" and *Hhe 
dream is the expression of the affective life" are 
substantially identical affirmations. The only dif- 
ference is that the first formula represents a higher 
degree of abstraction. Spinoza^ already looked 
upon the ^^wish" as the essence of all the ** pas- 
sions" (that is to say of all the affective states) and 
modern psychology, following Eibot,^ has recognised 
that the tendency (of which the wish is the primor- 
dial manifestation) lies at the very root of the af- 
fective life. 

^ Spinoza, Ethics. ^ Ribot, La psychologie des sentiments. 



78 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

Freud admits that in tlie dream, underlying tlie 
conscious wish we may detect in it, there is an un- 
conscious wish whose intensity has been displaced 
on to the object of the superficial conscious wish. 
But he adds that the unconscious wishes of which he 
speaks are *' fixed" routes open **once for alP' to 
reactions/ Does not this amount to saying that 
*^ unconscious wishes" are almost identical with the 
' * tendencies ' ' of the classical psychology f Now it is 
quite certain that a specific wish can always be re- 
garded as a manifestation of a tendency. Freud 
would add that the tendencies disclosed in dreams 
have been repressed. This can only be asserted 
without qualification if we follow Freud in his 
identification of *^ repressed" with ^'censored for 
moral or social reasons." But the contention be- 
comes strictly logical if we understand by repressed 
tendency, thwarted tendency. The obstacle to free 
expression may be internal or external: a conflict 
of tendencies; moral grounds; the absence of the 
normal object of the tendency; disillusionment; or, 
furthermore, the physiological impossibility of ac- 
tion (the last category includes the state of sleep 
itself). It is probable enough that, among these 
forms of repression, Freudian repression (by cen- 
sorship) is peculiarly important. But I am sure 
that we strain the facts, or at least commit our- 
selves to a needless hypothesis, if we reduce all re- 
pression to this form. 

The Freudian concept of repression is complex. 
To begin with it sometimes implies the repression 
^ Freud, Die Traumdeutung, p. 434, with note on this page. 



DYNAMICS OF THE AFFECTIVE LIFE 79 

of an isolated experience, and sometimes that of a 
tendency. It is certain, however, that the two phe- 
nomena are not identical. The repression of an ex- 
perience is a systematic forgetting of the past ; that 
of a tendency constitutes an inhibition for the fu- 
ture. Yet the two phenomena are intimately linked ; 
for a tendency is repressed when a number of ex- 
periences relative to this tendency (a number of 
sexual experiences, for instance) have been sys- 
tematically repressed. But is this the only way in 
which repression of a tendency can occur? May 
there not be repression of a tendency which, from 
the nature of the case, has never been exercised! 
Besides, consciousness does not instantly compre- 
hend a tendency as such ; it comprehends the isolated 
experiences which nothing but a complicated process 
of reflection can subsequently link up to form a 
single tendency. This means that the moral and 
social censorship is not competent to bring about 
the repression of a tendency except in those cases 
in which the tendency is a sequel of the repression 
of isolated experiences. 

But the concept of repression may be analysed 
into distinct elements from another point of view. 
For Freud, a tendency is repressed when it is : 

(a) thwarted, and 

(h) thrust down into the '^unconscious''^ 

^Baudouin prefers to speak of the "subconscious" rather than 
the "unconscious" — the term employed by Freud and Bergson. 
For Baudouin's reasons for this preference, see Suggestion and 
Autosuggestion, pp. 275-6. — Translators' Note. 



80 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

(c) by the working of the moral and social cen- 
censorship. 

These three conditions are not perforce invari- 
ably linked. As we have just pointed out, a ten- 
dency can be thwarted (a), by other means than 
that of the censorship (c). It may be thwarted by 
some external obstacle, through lack of stimulus. 
This often happens with the tendencies of children 
(quarrelling, the instinct of the chase, manipulating 
things) when these tendencies have not been mani- 
fested at a suitable moment, etc. Yet in such cases 
the tendency is thrust down into the subconscious 
(h). On the other hand, a tendency can be thwarted 
without being for that reason thrust down into the 
subconscious. Take the very simple instance of 
hunger which cannot be satisfied, and which becomes 
all the more insistent. A tendency that is thwarted 
but not thrust down into the subconscious can in- 
duce dreams — dreams in which there seems to be no 
occasion for disguise. Those who have had to make 
the best of the very strict diet imposed during con- 
valescence from typhoid, will doubtless remember 
that, as soon as the appetite began to reassert itself, 
they dreamed of G-argantuan feasts. Freud him- 
self refers to the occurrence of such straightforward 
dreams in children, who in the dream frankly satisfy 
a thwarted wish. Again, the thwarted wish can in- 
duce symbolical dreams, without being either thrust 
down into the ^^unconscious" or condemned by the 
censorship. This symbolism has no warrant upon 
the theory of purposive disguise, since we have to 



DYNAMICS OF THE AFFECTIVE LIFE 81 

do with a conscious wish. To explain it, Freud is 
compelled to look below the conscious wish, in search 
of a deeper wish which is unconscious and ^^re- 
pressed." It would obviously be simpler to regard 
symbolism in this case as due to the working of laws 
(condensation, displacement) which always function 
more or less in dreams, and which do not have the 
disguising of thought as their essential purpose. 
We are all the more justified in such a supposition 
since we believe that we have discovered other func- 
tions for these processes. 

It seems to me that among the three elements {a, 
b, and c) which combine to make up the Freudian 
repression of a tendency, the first (the fact that a 
tendency is thwarted or imperfectly/ satisfied) is 
sufficient to induce dreams, and even symbolical 
dreams. Nothing is more likely than that in most 
cases the two other factors (the forcing down into 
the subconscious, and censorship) are also at work. 
Freud, though his theory is not perfectly sound, 
may well be right in practice. But it is important 
to distinguish between the various elements of *^ re- 
pression." 

The symbol is the natural form of the affective 
imagination. When the writer of The Song of 
Songs symbolically lauds all the parts of the body 
of his beloved, he does not disguise the reality of his 
vision ; he does not repress, but gives expression to, 
what is in his mind. He expresses it symbolically 
because the symbol is the natural language of strong 
feeling, of an overpowering tendency. Wherever 
there is a surcharge of wish, feeling, and emotion, 



82 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

there the dream and the symbol make their appear- 
ance. The ^^ surcharge" is the particular variety 
of repression necessary and sufficient to induce 
them. 

While accepting, therefore, in the main, the 
Freudian formula of the dream, we replace the term 
*^wish'' by the term * tendency," and the term *^ re- 
pressed'' by the term ** unsatisfied." The dream 
manifests the (symbolical) realisation of an unsat- 
isfied tendency,^ It should be added that what is 
true of the dream is true of ' ' dream states ' ' in gen- 
eral. 

Thus the dream has been referred to the tendency, 
of which it represents the surcharge. But the tend- 
ency in its turn is a manifestation of instinct. 

2, The Idea of an Evolution of Instinct 

For a long time, instinct was dogmatically re- 
garded as immutable. It was, however, a logical 
development to supplement the theory of the evolu- 
tion of species by the theory of the evolution of in- 
stincts. If one species grows out of another, and 
if each species has instincts peculiar to itself, the 
inference is inevitable that instincts undergo trans- 
formation. That which theory led us to expect, has 
been verified by experience, and this affords impor- 
tant additional confirmation of the theory of evolu- 
tion. 

^ Pieron (op. cit.) associates repression ("suppression," accord- 
ing to Rivers) with the general biological phenomenon of inhibi- 
tion. 



DYNAMICS OF THE AFFECTIVE LIFE 83 

Spalding^ led the way by showing that certain 
instincts make their appearance at a definite stage 
in life. If, during this stage, the instinct is 
thwarted and is not allowed to manifest itself, it 
will subsequently fail to appear. The reader will 
perhaps remember Spalding's experiments on 
chicks. A chick separated from the hen for the first 
days of its life does not acquire the instinct of fol- 
lowing the hen, and is incapable of acquiring it later. 
These experiments are in part the foundation of 
William James' theory of instinct. James formu- 
lates what he terms the laiv of transit or iness,^ to the 
effect that *'many instincts ripen at a certain age 
and then fade away. ' ' Thorndike ^ has generalised 
this law yet further by contending that every in- 
stinct thwarted by circumstances disappears. Bet- 
ter known are examples of instincts which are trans- 
formed in order to adapt them to new circumstances. 
Since horses have been introduced into America the 
American oriole has taken to pulling hairs out of 
horses' tails to build nests with. Some of Forel's 
experiments have revealed remarkable inhibitions 
and transformations of instinct in ants.^ 

What concerns psychology is to discover analo- 
gous phenomena in man, and we owe to William 

^ Spalding, "Macmillan's Magazine," 1873, vol. xxvii, pp. 
282-93. Quoted by Romanes, Mental Evolution in Animals, 
pp. 161-5. 

2 James, The Principles of Psychology, vol. ii., p. 398. 

3 Thorndike, The Elements of Psychology, p. 188. 

*Forel, Les fourmis de la Suisse, 1874. — The obsei-vations are 
summarised by Romain Holland in The Forerunners, pp. 175-84. 



84 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

James the opening of research in this direction. 
James showed, not merely that man possesses in- 
stincts, but that man has more instincts than any 
other animal. The old contrast between *' intelli- 
gence '^ allotted to man and ''instinct'' allotted to 
lower animals, had blinded us, so that the impor- 
tance of instinct in our own species was hidden from 
our eyes. As Drever shows,^ the same prejudice led 
investigators, even when studying instinct in man, 
to regard it rather as a physiological than as a psy- 
chological phenomenon, to look at it from without 
instead of from within. Towards intelligence, we 
incline to take precisely the opposite attitude, a 
purely psychological one ; and not until quite late did 
psychologists begin to study the physiological con- 
ditions of intelligence — being led to this by way of 
pathology. A study of the psychology of instinct is 
still more recent. 

James drew up a nomenclature of human in- 
stincts, and applied to most of them the law of tran- 
sit or imess, whose bearing on the problems of edu- 
cation he was prompt to recognise. If a child does 
not learn to ride, fish, and shoot at an age when these 
instincts normally appear, it will be difficult for these 
sports to be learned later in life, even in the most 
favourable circumstances. Similarly, there is a spe- 
cial age for the development of the taste for draw- 
ing, of that for manual training, of that of collecting. 
The new pedagogy, the educational method mainly 
based upon the development of a child's natural in- 
terests, owes a great part of its success to this prin- 

^ Drever, Instinct in Man, 1917, pp. 88 et seq. 



DYNAMICS OF THE AFFECTIVE LIFE 85 

ciple, for the child ^s spontaneous interest reveals an 
instinctive need/ 

While recognising that instincts can be sup- 
pressed, we have also recognised that they can be 
transformed. It was important to detect the latter 
phenomenon in man as well as in animals. Above 
all it was important to discover a tie between the sup- 
pression of instincts and their transformation. 
Such a tie was discovered by Freud. Bovet writes : 
**Two men, one fifteen years later than the other, 
have achieved a complete change in the current 
psychological views of instinct. . . . James gives 
the name of instinct to certain very precise reac- 
tions in animals. . . . Freud, when he speaks of the 
sexual instinct, envisages a group of phenomena 
which are similar to those of which James speaks, 
but far more intricate. His theories carry matters 
considerably further, but they do not conflict with 
the theories of James.'' ^ 

Freud has studied various transformations of the 
sexual instinct.^ He was first led to regard this in- 
stinct as made up of a number of secondary tenden- 
cies (auto-erotism, homo-sexuality, algolagnia or 
sado-masochism, inspectionism and exhibitionism, 
etc.). These exist to some extent even in normal 
persons, grouped around the main tendency, sexu- 
ality properly so called. When the main tendency 
is repressed, the instinct is derivatively applied to 
one or more of the secondary components, and a per- 

1 James, Talks to Teachers, 1899. 

2 Bovet, L'instinct combatif, p. 107. 

^ Freud, Drei Abhandlungen zur Sexualtheorie;^ 1905. .ft,, 



86 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

version ensues. We are far too apt to regard per- 
versions as physiological and congenital. Psycho- 
analysis usually shows that they are psychological 
and acquired; in these cases, the analysis cures 
them.^ But in many instances the perverse tend- 
ency is repressed in its turn; it may become entirely 
unconscious, and show itself only in dreams. Then 
the instinct seeks new derivatives. Neurosis is one 
of these. Freud looks upon every neurosis as deriv- 
ative, as the outcome of the refusal of a specific 
perversion; hence the formula *^a neurosis is the 
negative of a perversion.'' But derivation may 
also occur in a moral, intellectual, aesthetic, or re- 
ligious direction. This is what Freud speaks of as 
sublimation — a successful and beneficent derivation. 
I do not agree with Freud in all the details of his 
theory, but the occurrence of derivation is a fact. 

The more remote the object upon which the 
derivation is effected from the object towards which 
the instinct was primarily directed, the more ques- 
tionable the interpretation may seem. A clearer 
formulation is therefore requisite for the principle 
of the method in accordance with which we deduce 
the existence of such transformations. I incline to 
formulate this principle as follows: 

When we were speaking of a single affect com- 
mon to all the elements of a condensation, and func- 
tioning as the cause of that condensation, the phrase 
was schematical. Two different objects cannot 
arouse one and the same affective state; they can 

^For a typical example, see Frend, Ueber die Psycliogenese 
eines Falles von weiblicher Homosexualitat, 1920. 



DYNAMICS OF THE AFFECTIVE LIFE 87 

merely arouse analogous affective states. It is the 
likeness of tlie affects which gives rise to the con- 
densation. We find that condensations are effected 
as concerns objects whose affective colourations 
seem entirely unrelated (for example a crude sexual 
desire and a purely aesthetic sentiment). Such a 
condensation becomes comprehensible if we assume 
that the two affective states have, unknown to the 
subject, a common biological parentage. In the case 
just mentioned, where we are concerned with a 
crudely instinctive tendency and with a higher ten- 
dency, it is only on the evolutionary plane that we 
can conceive the two states to have a common bio- 
logical parentage. The hypothesis of such a com- 
mon parentage is verified: 

1. When the history of the subject proves that 
the development of the second tendency is a sequel 
to the total or partial suppression of the first ; 

2. When the same condensation and the same his- 
torical development occur in a great many subjects. 
(This item of evidence is even more convincing than 
number one.) 

The principle is often implicit in the reasoning 
of psychoanalysts, but it is advantageous to consider 
it explicitly. By its light we are repeatedly able to 
verify many of the views advanced by Freud con- 
cerning transformations of the sexual instinct in 
the human psyche. 

We see, then, that the essential phenomena of the 
suppression and transformation of instinct (whose 
recognition has led to the overthrow of the time- 
worn dogma that instinct is immutable) are wit- 



88 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

nessed in man as well as in the lower animals ; and 
we see that in man the transformations of in- 
stinct are remarkably numerous and plastic. More- 
over, we have detected a tie between the two phe- 
nomena. The suppression of an instinct is apparent 
merely; and suppression is the preeminent cause of 
transformation. A transformed instinct is, before 
all, a thwarted instinct. 

We are now in a position to understand the serv- 
ices which the study of instinct, long disdained by 
psychology, is called upon to render to that science. 
Instinct has a psychological aspect ; and we are con- 
tinually encountering instinct in the affective life, 
of which it is a permanent element. The psycho- 
logical importance of instinct depends upon the phe- 
nomena of the transformation of instinct. Owing 
to these transformations, instinct is often at work 
in matters with which at first sight it seems to have 
no concern. 

The psychological phenomenon whose affiliation 
to instinct was first grasped was emotion. "William 
James writes:^ ** Every object that excites an in- 
stinct excites an emotion as well. ' ' When he comes 
to deal with such phenomena as fear, etc., he is in 
doubt whether they should be classed among emo- 
tions, or among instincts. The peripheral theory of 
the emotions,^ supported "by James, is closely con- 
nected with this identification of emotion and instinct. 
Inasmuch as a system of motor reactions underlies 

^ James, The Principles of Psychology, vol. ii., p. 442. 
2 Cf. Baudouin, Suggestion et Autosuggestion, pp. 47-51 j Eng- 
lish translation, pp. 61-66. 



DYNAMICS OF THE AFFECTIVE LIFE 89 

instinct, it is reasonable to enquire whether the 
motor reactions are not the setf-sufficing cause of the 
emotion. 

From this outlook, emotion has been regarded as 
the *^ psychological aspect'' or ^'affective aspect" of 
instinct. Such is the formula employed by Mc- 
Dougall. According to McDougall, the emotion of 
fear is the psychological translation of the instinct 
of flight.^ This view has been criticised by Thorn- 
dike, who would prefer to restrict the term ^^pure 
instincts" to denote ^'specific responses to specific 
situations,"^ without any bearing upon possible 
emotional accompaniments. Thorndike's position is 
hardly tenable, and Drever^ has categorically re- 
asserted the thesis of James and McDougall. 
Larguier des Bancels will not consent to regard emo- 
tion as the psychological aspect of instinct; he says 
that emotion is *^ instinct which has gone wrong."* 
He gives the following example: ''We obey an in- 
stinct when we get out of the way of a carriage on 
hearing the sound of its approach. We are a prey 
to emotion when we stand in its way with feet rooted 
to the ground, or when we dance about in front of 
it." In like manner he says, a man who is gniided 
by the ''combative instinct" makes ready to deliver 
a blow, remaining cool and self-possessed; whereas 
anger makes him lose his head. This distinction, 
like Thorndike's, is difficult to maintain; it serves 

^ McDougall, An Introduction to Social Psychology, p. 49. 

2 Thorndike, Educational Psychology. 

^ Drever, Instinct in Man, pp. 150 et seq. 

* Larguier des Bancels, op. cit., p. 240. 



90 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

mainly to draw attention to the disorders of instinct. 
Nevertheless, although the formula ^* emotion is in- 
stinct gone wrong'' is unquestionably an exaggera- 
tion, it is suggestivCf for it emphasises the fact that 
the affective aspect of the phenomenon develops at 
the cost of the active aspect. We have had occasion 
to note this before. A certain amount of emotion is 
the normal accompaniment of instinct ; but the emo- 
tion develops at the expense of the instinct properly 
so called. For good or for ill, and whether or not 
the emotion be instinct gone wrong, violent emotion 
is a transformation, an evolution, of instinct. The 
evolution presupposes that part of the instinct has 
been diverted from its primary function. Here we 
are in line with the observations of Eomanes, who 
notes that the emotional manifestations accompany- 
ing instinct grow more intense as we rise in the ani- 
mal scale, and that they attain their maximum in 
man.^ 

But the psychological evolution of instinct does 
not end with emotion. This is not the only psycho- 
logical aspect of instinct; we may call it the acute 
psychological aspect. The enduring psychological 
aspect of instinct is what in Eibot's psychology is 
termed tendency. Emotion is manifested when a 
tendency has a violent encounter with its object. In 
default of this shock, a tendency does not manifest 
itself by emotions, but through other forms of the 
affective life (feelings, passions) ; for the tendency, 
as we have pointed out above, underlies the whole of 
the affective life. It follows, then, that the affective 

1 Romanes, Animal Intelligence, pp. 155, 270, etc. 



DYNAMICS OF THE AFFECTIVE LIFE 91 

life as a whole is based upon instinct. The classical 
distinction between primitive tendencies and derived 
tendencies (or acquired tendencies) thus becomes 
perfectly clear. Primitive tendencies are the ex- 
pression of instinct pure and simple; derived ten- 
dencies are the outcome of the transformations that 
instinct undergoes in the individual, especially when 
instinct has been thwarted. These tendencies may 
represent a derivation of instinct towards new ends, 
moral, aesthetic, or spiritual; bearing this in mind, 
we can easily understand why James Ward assimi- 
lates instinct to talent, regarding talent as an in- 
stinct in process of formation.^ The interest mani- 
fested for any particular object is the preeminent 
sign of a tendency, whether primitive or derived. 
In either ease we have to do with a force that is 
instinctive in its origin; and the new pedagogy has 
good reason for assigning a biological role to inter- 
est, and for considering that educationists should 
pay particular attention to this matter. Finally, 
when James tells us that man has more instincts 
than any other animal, we must understand here by 
the term * instinct," numerous tendencies, increas- 
ingly psychological in character, which can undergo 
development in man, but which result from the evo- 
lution of a much smaller number of crude instincts. 

From the theoretical outlook, the number of these 
crude instincts may perhaps be very much restricted, 
for it is doubtful apriori whether every primitive 
instinct is capable of the same evolution. The idea 
that the affective life, including the higher feelings, 

^ Ward, Psychological Principles, 1918, p. 449. 



92 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

represents cm evolution of instincts^ must be accepted 
as a general proposition. It is a natural deduction 
from the theory of evolution, and people will become 
familiarised with it just as they have become famili- 
arised with the idea of the evolution of species. 
Hardly anyone is now unwilling to admit that man 
is descended from animal ancestors; why, then, 
should anyone take offence at the idea that our high- 
est feelings arise out of instincts? But although the 
general notion of this evolution must be accepted, 
we are not yet in a position to work the idea out in 
detail. 

We spoke of a possible genesis of feelings from a 
restricted number of instincts. Freud, in this con- 
nection, attaches especial importance to the sexual 
instinct, and that is what has made many people find 
the theory repugnant. As we shall see shortly, other 
instincts besides the sexual can and do play their 
part. Freud does not deny it. Moreover, as Pfister 
well says, it is as absurd to be angry with Freud 
for his outlook as it would have been to blame Chris- 
topher Columbus for having discovered America 
only, without discovering Australia and the North 
and South Poles. Not merely was the line taken 
by Freud the boldest one, and also the one which it 
was the most urgent to take; but in addition it is 
easy on theoretical grounds to demonstrate that the 
sexual instinct must have had exceptional impor- 
tance in the genesis of our feelings. Here are three 
propositions the truth of which it is very difficult 
to deny. 

1. The feelings represent an evolution of crude 



DYNAMICS OF THE AFFECTIVE LIFE 93 

instincts. (This is the conclusion to which we have 
just been led.) 

2. The instincts which evolve are preeminently 
instincts that have been repressed or thwarted. 
(This was proved above.) 

3. The sexual instinct is one of the two or three 
of the most potent among the instincts, and it is 
also one of those upon which the greatest number 
of repressions are imposed in social and civilised 
life. (The facts are obvious.) 

Anyone who accepts these three propositions will 
have to accept, as a perhaps unexpected but neces- 
sary corollary when they are juxtaposed, the con- 
tention that the evolution of the thwarted sexual in- 
stinct has a preponderating importance in the gene- 
sis of our feelings.^ I do not think that Freud's 
main idea goes far beyond the terms of this propo- 
sition. 

Obviously there is no reason for neglecting the 
part played by the other instincts. In the case of 
several of them, we shall find that there are certain 
transformations easy to follow, similar transforma- 
tions to those which Freud has described in the case 
of the sexual instinct. 

Speaking generally, we can distinguish two kinds 
of transformation: 

1. Sometimes the thwarted instinct seeks deriva- 
tives in actions different from those towards which 

1 The same affirmation may be found in the writings of an 
author who is by no means an adherent of psychoanalysis. Cf. 
Paulhan, Les transformations sociales des sentiments, 1920, p. 151. 



94 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

it was primarily directed, but it remains essentially 
active. (Example, the combative instinct finds its 
derivative in sport.) 

2. Sometimes the instinct is satisfied with ** re- 
gression '' (Freud), 'introversion" (Jung), **ob- 
jectivation" (Bovet), in the affective and imagina- 
tive world. (Example, the combative instinct finds 
its derivative in epic imagination.) 

The distinction corresponds to that between play 
and dreaming; moreover, as in the cases of play and 
dreaming, intermediate forms, mixed derivatives, are 
met with. 

In either case the derivative is formed as the 
sequel of the displacement of affective stress upon 
an object different from that towards which the ten- 
dency was primarily directed. But whereas in 
dreaming and in play the displacement was momen- 
tary, here it is persistent, and the tendency has 
definitively secured a new object. Moreover, the 
analysis of displacement in dreams has thrown an 
unexpected light upon the process of derivation. 
Derivation is the projection upon a di/namic plane 
of that which is displacement upon a static plane. 

Unquestionably derivation is always heralded by 
displacements which have vacillated a little before 
undergoing fixation. Here we approach a new 
aspect (which has been foreshadowed) of the func- 
tion of play in dreams. Dreaming appeared to us 
at first, in adults at any rate, to be an outlet for 
an unemployed instinct; whereas the play of chil- 
dren seemed to us to be, in addition, the exercise 
of an embryonic instinct. But a derivative which is 



DYNAMICS OF THE AFFECTIVE LIFE 95 

in course of development is, strictly speaking, an 
embryonic tendency, an evolving instinct. 

In certain cases, the displacement that occurs in a 
dream appears quite plainly to be an embryonic ten- 
dency, playing, vacillating exercising itself. It is 
in such cases that we are entitled to speak of dreams 
that point out the way. The subject will eventually 
follow a path which has appeared to him in a dream. 

We shall find instances of such dreams in several 
of our subjects. Gerard, an adolescent, exhibits a 
vacillating sublimation ; this vacillation finds expres- 
sion in dream V ; the tendency towards Catholicism 
which manifesl:s itself in the dream will eventually, 
in this subject, become a real tendency, a wish to 
be converted. Eoger has, towards the close of the 
analysis (from dream XIX onwards), several 
dreams which point out the way, and in which a 
budding sublimation is sketched. But the most 
typical case is perhaps that of Jeanne, who vacil- 
lates between aesthetic sublimation and moral-social 
sublimation, and who plays upon these two possi- 
bilities (in dreams IX and X). It is thus that a 
child will play at different trades or professions be- 
fore feeling that its choice of a life occupation has 
been made. Such dreams are entitled to be termed 
dreams that point out the way, inasmuch as the ten- 
dencies and the conflicts of tendency which come to 
light in the dreams are as a rule more or less sub- 
conscious, and the analysis of these dreams helps 
the subject to become aware of his own trends. I 
may adduce the example of a young man who during 
childhood had little predilection for combative ex- 



96 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

ploits but who was nevertheless continually dream- 
ing that he was a soldier. When he was nineteen, 
this tendency entered his waking consciousness, and 
he adopted a military career, for which he had long 
been preparing in his dreams just as others prepare 
for such a career in play. 

In view of these facts it is easy to realise that the 
dream-play which is termed **art" has the same 
function for humanity at large that dreaming and 
play have for the individual. Art is not merely an 
outlet for unemployed tendencies; it is also a play, 
an exercise, in which these tendencies seek new ob- 
jects, in which they imagine the diverse possibilities 
of their future evolution. Might we not define the 
higher art as a dream which points out the way to 
mankind in search of its goal? 

3. The Genealogy of Tendencies 

"When there repeatedly occurs a condensation of 
images tinged with affects which to consciousness 
seem to have no connection with one another, there 
are, as we have learned, grounds for supposing that 
these affective states are really akin. Imagination 
is based on affectivity, affectivity on instinct. Just 
as the condensation of different images commonly 
results from their being tinged with kindred affects, 
so the condensation of different affective states is 
the outcome (if we may use the term) of the common 
instinctive ''parentage" of the affects. These two 
principles correspond to the two successive cate- 
gories of psychoanalysis. In the dream, a conden- 



DYNAMICS OF THE AFFECTIVE LIFE 97 

sation of images is the only immediate datum from 
which we can start. Sometimes tMs condensation 
is explained by a kinship of the first degree, an af- 
fective kinship between the images. Sometimes we 
must go deeper for an explanation ; there is diversity 
not only between the images bnt also between the 
concomitant affective states, and the uniting element 
must be sought in the instinctive parentage of the 
affective states. This latter form of kinship is not 
usually within the realm of consciousness. 

But here again, schematically considered, there 
are two alternatives. The affective states may rep- 
resent different stages of evolution (a crude ten- 
dency and a higher tendency), and it is only under 
the evolutionary form that we can conceive their 
kinship. Of this nature is the case considered above, 
when we took as an example the condensation of a 
sexual tendency with an aesthetic tendency. If there 
is kinship between these two tendencies, it is because 
some of the latter represent an evolution of some of 
the elements of the former. In the alternative case, 
the two affective states which undergo condensation 
do not obviously belong to different stages of evolu- 
tion. For instance, we may be concerned with two 
sentiments developed by civilisation, such as the 
filial sentiment and the conjugal sentiment; or with 
two crude tendencies, such as the combative and the 
sexual respectively. Again, when we have to do 
with developed sentiments, the solution of the dif- 
ference may take place on the affective plane. In 
certain subjects there is a definite likeness, a like- 
ness of which the subject is aware, between the con- 



98 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

jugal sentiment and the filial sentiment. ^^You are 
my sister and my mother as well as my beloved," 
says Don Carlos in Verhaeren's play Philippe IL 
Are we then to be satisfied with the affective likeness, 
and are we to say that in snch subjects one senti- 
ment serves as symbol of the other — and if so, which 
is the symbol 1 Are we to look for a biological foun- 
dation, to say that one of the tendencies has devel- 
oped out of the other, and that filial aifection con- 
tains the germs of conjugal affection? If we have 
to do with two crude instincts, are they derived one 
from the other, and how; are they derived from a 
common source; is their biological tie used by the 
dream only as a pretext, so that one serves as sym- 
bol of the other — and, once more, which is the sym- 
bol? 

This way of stating the problem gives us some 
idea of its intricacy. Certain feelings, certain in- 
stincts, form condensations which are encountered 
unmistakably in a great number of persons. It is 
manifest that the feelings are akin, that the instincts 
are akin. But what is the nature of the kinship! 
It is here that the question becomes involved. We 
shall see a little more clearly if we bear the follow- 
ing principles in mind : 

1. In every * * symbolisation, " as previously 
pointed out, we must be extremely circumspect in 
deciding which of the terms symbolises the other, 
and which is the essential element. Our judgment 
as to what is symbol and what symbolised is a very 
subjective affair. We shall often find it more pru- 
dent to be satisfied with noting that there is a rela- 



DYNAMICS OF THE AFFECTIVE LIFE 99 

tionship between the different terms, and to refrain 
from specifying precisely what the relationship is. 

2. This relationship, in all cases, and even when 
it exhibits itself as an affective likeness of which the 
subject is aware, can in the last analysis be reduced 
to a biological kinship (instinctive parentage), and 
can always be looked upon as a function of evolu- 
tion. But the relationship does not per se tell us 
anything as to the nature of this evolution. 

3. The nature of the evolution can only be de- 
cided by historical considerations. Thus alone can 
we determine whether we have to do with an evolu- 
tion of tendencies acquired by the individual, or 
with an evolution of instincts proper to the species. 

Psychoanalysis leads us to the following concep- 
tion. The affective-instinctive forces, in short the 
tendencies, which work in the depths of our being, 
are interrelated in ways analogous to those which 
the theory of evolution has elucidated as existing 
between species. They are blood-relations; they 
grow out of one another. Below, there are certain 
crude instincts; above, we have the burgeoning of 
the higher feelings. But this statement is a mere 
skeleton. We must clothe it with flesh; we must 
show how the tendencies are akin, distinguishing 
between near relationships and distant ; we must, in 
a word, draw up the genealogical tree of our ten- 
dencies. 

To put the matter more clearly, let ns follow up 
the comparison with the origin of species. The 
reader will remember that the biological theory of 



100 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

evolution both generally and as regards details is 
logically grounded upon the data furnished by three 
sciences: comparative anatomy; paleontology; and 
embryology. Comparative anatomy detects the re- 
markable homologies between the organs of differ- 
ent species; finding, for instance, an arm in the 
skeleton of a bird's wing. Paleontology discloses 
the order of appearance of the various species in 
geological history, and thus elucidates kinship by 
descent. Embryology shows that the individual de- 
velopment of the higher beings from germ-cell to 
adult is an epitome of the development of species 
revealed by paleontology. Psychoanalysis to-day, 
in its study of tendencies, is in much the same posi- 
tion as comparative anatomy in relation to the study 
of species; psychoanalysis is able to detect remark- 
able kinships between tendencies. In addition, in 
certain cases, psychoanalysis is able to secure data 
analogous to those furnished by embryology, as 
when it elucidates the history and the transforma- 
tions of a subject's tendencies. Finally, with Jung 
and his school, psychoanalysis undertakes stupen- 
dous excavations in the paleontological strata of 
primitive thought and the ' ' collective unconscious ' ' ; 
it aspires to exhume the fabulous monsters which are 
supposed to enjoy a revived existence to-day in the 
infantile states of the human mind.^ But this ^* psy- 
chic paleontology" and ^^ psychic embryology" are 

^ An interesting monograph upon this topic is Aurel Kolnai's 
recently published work, Psychoanalysis and Sociology. But, for 
the reasons given in the text, this author's conclusions must be 
accepted with reserve. 



DYNAMICS OF THE AFFECTIVE LIFE 101 

still in the faltering stage of early childhood, and 
we have often to be content with the ^ * comparative 
anatomy '^ of tendencies. The last, even, exhibits 
many gaps. This is why great caution is needed 
when we are constructing a genealogical tree of ten- 
dencies. In the conceptual sphere, the idea of their 
evolution is forced upon us ; as a fact, we can verify 
such an evolution in many instances, and we owe the 
possibility of this verification to psychoanalysis; but 
there is a great deal more work to be done before 
all the details of the genealogy can be known to us. 

Manifestly, then, in this domain there is plenty of 
scope for conflicting interpretations. We must not 
therefore refrain from interpretations; they are es- 
sential to the exposition and linking of the phe- 
nomena. But we must never forget that these inter- 
pretations contain large hypothetical elements. If 
psychoanalysts would always bear this fact in mind, 
they would not furnish us with the spectacle de- 
scribed by Claparede: ^^They sometimes confound 
hypotheses with facts, ignore the need for systematic 
doubt, and mistake a theory for a creed. Hence 
they sutfer from intestine dissensions. They are 
split up into petty, warring chapels, hermetically 
sealed to the profane ; and they enter their respective 
chapels with a mystic air of self-satisfied superiority, 
as if they were the hierophants of some esoteric doc- 
trine. — Such are the foibles of mankind. . . .''^ 

We have already noted the exceptional importance 
attached by Freud to transformations of the sexual 
instinct, regarded as the product of numerous com- 

^ Claparede, Introduction to Freud's La psychanalyse, p. 21. 



102 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

ponents capable of independent variation and of un- 
equal degrees of modification. According to this 
view, an evolution of the sexual instinct underlies 
many of the higher manifestations of the mind. 
Energy that was primarily sexual is thus looked 
upon as taking the form of a stream which divides 
into a number of branches, subsequently perhaps 
coalescing and separating once more. If one branch 
is dammed, the obstructed portion of the stream flows 
into lateral channels, and may there give rise to new 
derivatives which are sometimes of great moral and 
social value. To give expression to this idea of the 
conservation of a stream of energy, quantitative in 
character, Freud uses the term libido^ Its meaning 
is not very strictly defined, and its significance has 
been rendered all the more obscure inasmuch as vari- 
ous disciples have employed it in divergent senses. 
As Freud himself uses the word, * ^libido'' would 
seem to be a designedly plastic term to denote an 
essentially mobile reality. Even though it be true 
that libido does not always signify precisely the 
same thing, we must not bear a grudge against 
Freud for this, seeing that the libido is a real entity 
in process of evolution. Jung shows that the con- 
cept has undergone expansion in proportion as 
Freud has grasped the existence of more numerous 
relationships between the sexual elements and other 
elements.^ If a simple definition of libido is possible, 
it will run as follows : Libido is sexual energy consid- 

^ Freud, Drei Abhandlungen zur Sexualtheorie. 
2 Jung, Wandlungen und Symbole der Libido, p. 124; The Psy- 
chology of the Unconscious, pp. 143-4. 



DYNAMICS OF THE AFFECTIVE LIFE 103 

ered from the outlook of its faculty for undergoing 
transformation and evolution. In tMs sense we may 
say that the ^4ibido" participates in this or that 
higher sentiment, just as we may say that Plato's 
skeleton retains a vestige of the simian tail. We 
are concerned here with a developmental relation- 
ship and not with identity, and this is why Freud 
can propound the paradoxical formula of a ** sexu- 
ality independent of the reproductive instinct.''^ 
Nevertheless, as Claparede ^ points out, there remain 
certain obscurities in the concept of libido. But this 
much is certain, that it is unjust to charge Freud 
with finding libido in everything, and with reducing 
the whole human mind to an evolution of the sexual. 
In a letter to Claparede (1921) he writes categori- 
cally concerning this matter : 

^'I have repeated and asserted as plainly as pos- 
sible apropos of transference neuroses (Uehertra- 
gungsneurosen)^ that I have drawn a distinction be- 
tween the Sexualtriehe ^ and the Ichtriehe; * and that 
for me libido denotes only the energy of the former, 
of the Sexfuultriehe. It is Jung and not I who makes 
the libido equivalent to the instinctive urge of all 
the mental faculties, and who combats the idea of the 
sexual nature of the libido. ... As far as I myself 
am concerned I fully recognise the existence of the 
group of the Ichtriehe j and of everything which the 
mental life owes to these instincts. But this latter 

^ Freud, La psychanalyse, p. 56 ; see also Introductory Lectures 
on Psychoanalysis, p. 276. 

2 Cf . the discussion in Freud, La psychanalyse, p. 70. 
^ Sexual instincts. 
* Ego instincts. 



io4j studies in psychoanalysis 

point is ignored by the general public; it is purposely 
hidden from the general public. The same sort of 
thing often happens when my theory of dreams is 
being expounded. I have never contended that every 
dream expresses the realisation of a sexual wish, 
and I have frequently affirmed the contrary. But 
all to no avail, for people go on saying the same 
thing over and over again.'' ^ 

We shall shortly have to consider Jung's ideas, 
but we must deal first of all with Adler's theory. 
It is grafted upon Freud's reserves in favour of the 
Ichtriehe. Adler, who is said to have been Freud's 
first disciple, applies his master's principles to the 
instinct of self-preservation, or rather to the instinct 
of the expansion of the personality (an instinct 
analogous to what Nietzsche termed the will-to- 
power). But his application of them is so drastic 
that he attributes to this instinct for power many 
of the results attributed by Freud to the sexual in- 
stinct; consequently the same phenomenon could be 
interpreted quite differently by Freud and by Adler. 
In imaginative creations Adler discerns compensa- 
tion^ for a real inferiority; the development of a 
mental tendency may manifest itself as the fixation 
of such a compensation for a feeling of organic in- 
feriority. (This recalls the case of a stammerer who 
dreams of becoming an orator, and who, if he be 
a Demosthenes, may actually become an orator.) 

^ Quoted in Freud, La psychanalyse, p. 70. 
2 Adler, Ueber den nervosen Charakter, 1919, pp. 24 et seq. ; 
The Neurotic Constitution, pp. 18 et seq. 



DYNAMICS OF THE AFFECTIVE LIFE 105 

In addition a neurosis is a means of dominating the 
entourage/ A boy who is being coddled for a sore 
throat may develop symptoms of asthma in order to 
keep everyone at his service.^ Or, again, a mother 
may pamper her children in the unconscious deter- 
mination to tyrannise over them. 

Adler goes further, and whenever he encounters 
sexuality he regards it as a symbol of power. The 
sexual allusions of neuropaths are purely symbolic 
(sind nur em GleicJinis).^ The sexual attitude of 
these patients is the outcome of their feeling of 
weakness, and of their dread of normal sexual rela- 
tions, in which they run the risk of encountering 
**a partner more powerful than themselves." They 
therefore simulate a perversion ; or they shun sexu- 
ality altogether; or, conversely, they become ^*Don 
Juans'^ or ^' light women'' for fear of a *^ unique 
partner" who would be likely to subjugate them. 
A woman, again, may manifest her will-to-power by 
falling in love with a man who is weakly or an in- 
valid, and owing to repression her true motive will 
assume the mark of compassion.* In consequence 
of the will-to-power, a neuropathic woman may wish 
to play a virile role, and may repudiate motherhood, 
or the sexual life in its entirety (a case in which 
Freud would have spoken of homosexuality). The 
menopause is characterised by an increase in neu- 



^ Adler, Ueber den nervosen, Charakter, 1919, p. 35 ; English 
version, p. 13. 

2 Ibid., p. 130; English version, p. 138. 
^Ibid., p. 135; English version, p. 144. 
*Ibid., p. 113; English version, p. 119. 



106 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

rotio symptoms because it tends to arouse a feeling 
of inferiority.^ 

Adler, like Freud, is a sagacious and at times a 
pitiless psychologist. He is in line with a number of 
caustic students of human nature such as La 
Rochefoucauld and Nietzsche, who delight in detect- 
ing *^ egoism'' and the *^ will-to-power'' behind every 
human feeling. But in Adler 's case this view does 
not lead to pessimism, any more than in Freud's, 
for psychoanalysts do not look upon sexuality or 
egoism as prisons from which there is no escape. 
Freud tells us that sexuality can undergo sublima- 
tion. So can the will-to-power. We must recog- 
nise the parallelism between Adler and Freud in 
spite of the differences between them. Freud con- 
trasts the ^^ pleasure principle" with the ^* reality 
principle." The neuropath is out of harmony with 
the real because his only guide is the ^* pleasure 
principle." Li like manner, for Adler, the principle 
of *' power" is essentially normal; but where the 
neuropath goes astray is that he becomes obsessed 
by this as his only principle, that he makes of it his 
*^ guiding fiction," forgetting the real. What is true 
of the power principle for the individual, is true 
likewise for the group, and Adler writes these vigor- 
ous words at the beginning of the second edition of 
his book The Neurotic Constitution: ^'In the interval 
between the two editions of this work, the world 
war and its sequels have intervened ; there has been 
the most terrible of collective neuroses into which 
our neuropathic civilisation has hurled itself in vir- 

^ Adler, Ueber den nervosen, Charakter, p. 75; English ver- 
sion, p. 76. 



DYNAMICS OF THE AFFECTIVE LIFE 107 

tue of its will-to-power and its policy of self-asser- 
tion. . . . This reveals itself as the elemental out- 
come of the lust for dominion which has been every- 
where let loose, stifling or artificially misusing the 
undying sentiment for human solidarity." 

The quotation is enough to show how much faith 
in humanity there can be in men who are neverthe- 
less dominated by pitiless realism. For Freud, as 
for Adler, the principle of neurosis is essentially an 
egoistic principle. The former speaks of the pleas- 
ure principle, and the latter of the power principle.^ 
In both cases there is maladaptation to the real, 
which is also the social. In both cases, the task of 
psychoanalysis is to reestablish the adaptation, and 
in so doing it does altruistic work. It is an educa- 
tion in confraternity (Erzieh'ung zur Gemeinschaft).^ 

The foregoing considerations will facilitate the 
reader's understanding of the attempt made by the 
Zurich School of psychoanalysts, and notably by 
Jung, to effect a synthesis of the respective theories 
of Freud and Adler ; and also to understand why it 
is that in this synthesis, which stresses the traits 
common to the two Viennese psychologists, the em- 
phasis has generally been laid upon the idealistic 
aspect of psychoanalysis, upon its role of labourer 
on behalf of altruism. 

But great as is the interest of the common features 
of the two doctrines, the differences between Freud 

^It is amusing to note that the names of these two men of 
science are symbolical of their respective theories, for "Freude" 
signifies "joy" or "pleasure," and "Adler" signifies "eagle." 
(This is a tip for those who like mnemonics!) 

2 Op. cit., Preface. 



108 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

and Adler are no less interesting. These differ- 
ences, and, above all, the fact that Adler sees a sym- 
bol where Freud sees a reality (and conversely), 
confirm the difficult primary theory which we formu- 
lated above. A judgment of value, we said, mark- 
edly subjective in character, decides the important 
point, decides what is the **S}TnboP* and what is 
the thing ^* symbolised." A symbol can be inter- 
preted in various ways, even though an objective 
relationship exists between the elements of which 
it is composed. 

Jung's proposed synthesis is founded mainly upon 
two principles : 

(1) the expansion of the concept of the 
* libido''; 

(2) the distinction between the *4ntrovert" 
and the *^ extrovert.'' 

1. The expansion of the concept of the libido was 
pointed out in Freud's letter to Claparede. Jung, 
showing that Freud has progressively expanded the 
significance of the term * ' libido, ' ' considers that this 
expansion ought to be carried yet further. He ap- 
plies the concept so as to include every tendency, 
not excepting those which Freud speaks of as the 
group of **ego instincts."^ The term libido as 
employed by Jung is likewise somewhat obscure, but 
we can use the same definition that we used to ex- 

^ Jung, Wandlungen und Symbole der Libido, Part II, Chapter 
II; Psychology of the Unconscious, Part II, Chapter II. 



DYNAMICS OF THE AFFECTIVE LIFE 109 

plain the Freudian significance of tlie term if we 
substitute the word ' instinctive '* for the word 
*^ sexual.*' Then, libido is instinctive energy con- 
sidered from the outlook of its faculty for wider- 
going transformation and evolution. This concep- 
tion implies the fundamental unity of all the in- 
stinctive energies, thus recalling, in the mental 
sphere, the general notion of energy in the physical 
sphere. It is, however, easy to see that such a use 
of the term libido veils a hypothesis, which is almost 
a metaphysical hypothesis. But the expansion of 
the concept has certainly the merit of enabling Jung 
to harmonise Adler's terminology with Freud's. 

2. This '^libido,'' this mental energy (which has 
been compared to the ** vital impetus'' [elan vital] 
of Bergson), is both centripetal and centrifugal, 
tends both towards the ego and towards the outer 
world. Here we have two compensatory functions. 
According as one or other predominates, the subject 
is an introvert or an extrovert. The introvert will 
be mainly a thinker, the extrovert will be mainly a 
man or woman of feeling or of action. The ^^Ich- 
triebe" dominate the introvert, whereas the *'Sex- 
ualtriebe" dominate the extrovert; thus to the intro- 
vert Adler's principle mainly applies, and to the 
extrovert Freud's principle mainly applies.^ 

Jung's conclusion is broadly tolerant: **Up to a 
certain point, the sexual theory is perfectly correct, 
but it is one-sided. We should consequently be 

1 This distinction forms the basis of Jung's book, Psycholo- 
gischen Typen, 1921. — Jung has also expounded the idea briefly 
in French, Contribution a I'etude des types psychologiques. 



110 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

equally wrong were we to reject it outright or to 
accept it as universally valid.'' 

For Jung, the psychoanalytic method **is based 
upon the theory of the two types" (of introvert and 
extrovert). The neuroses and the psychoses corre- 
spond to an exaggeration of one function or the 
other (extroversion in hysteria, introversion in neu- 
rasthenia and in dementia prsecox). To cure these 
patients we must develop in them the function which 
they lack. This can be done, for the lack is appar- 
ent merely; the missing function is repressed into 
the subconscious. 

Jung's synthesis is a praiseworthy effort to unify 
psychoanalysis, to subsume under one head theories 
which might seem conflicting. We owe much to 
Jung for his specialist studies, and above all for his 
application of the Freudian method to the psychoses, 
but we find it necessary to criticise his attempted 
synthesis. This theory is so generalised that its 
outlines grow hazy. The distinction between the 
two types is nothing more than a convenient formula 
which we must not be unduly ready to accept as cor- 
responding to an absolute reality. As for Jung's 
concept of the ^'libido," this is even more impal- 
pable than Freud's; it has become protean. Such 
extremely general notions are by no means futile, 
but we have to ask ourselves whether they possess 
the qualities requisite for scientific terminology. 
Here we touch the root of the matter. Jung's syn- 
thesis is philosophical rather than scientific. Broad 
syntheses are excellent when we wish to summarise 



DYNAMICS OF THE AFFECTIVE LIFE 111 

the present state of knowledge, but they are not 
favourable to the process of research. 

From the scientific point of view the question 
arises whether it would not be better to harmonise 
the respective theories of Adler and Freud upon a 
platform purposively analytical. The construc- 
tions of Freud and of Adler are already vast syn- 
theses open to criticism for their tendency towards 
systematic generalisations — and this tendency itself 
explains their conflict. Is it the best corrective to 
subsume these two theories in a synthesis yet more 
titanic? Perhaps it is, for the philosopher. But 
would not the psychologist be well advised to try the 
opposite method? 

Psychoanalysis has already a superabundance of 
ambitious generalisations. We must remember that 
this branch of science has hitherto been mainly de- 
veloped in the Teutonic lands, and that the German 
spirit has ever been more inclined towards meta- 
physics than psychology, towards synthesis than 
analysis. Consequently, by the irony of fate, at 
each step forward psycho-analysis has to an increas- 
ing extent run the danger of becoming metaphysico- 
synthesis. I do not know that this need be regretted. 
Owing to the nature of the object of study there was 
a risk at first that psychoanalysis would lead to a 
collection of disconnected facts; and the synthetic 
spirit was requisite before the science could become 
the imposing force it now is. But given the requisite 
synthetic foundation and now that the vast design 
has been traced, we shall find it advantageous to 
work upon a smaller scale. Freud, a disciple of 



112 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

Charcot and Bernheim, expected great things of 
France — just as formerly Nietzsche, the forerunner 
of psychoanalysis, had expected great things of her. 
^^ Freud had imagined,'* writes Claparede, ^Hhat the 
French mind, noted for its versatility, would be 
readier than the German mind to understand the 
finer shades of the mental life and the hidden impli- 
cations of the subconscious; he expected to receive, 
across the frontier, if not the approval, at least the 
attention which his compatriots refused with scant 
courtesy. . . . Yet, strange to say, the French have 
been the very last to interest themselves in his 
work. ' ' ^ 

At length, however, the hour has come, and we are 
entitled to expect that the French spirit will guide 
psychoanalysis in the genuinely *^ analytical" direc- 
tion desiderated above. Such a movement is already 
manifest, not only in French Switzerland, but also in 
Britain. It is time that the movement should be- 
come fully conscious of its own trend. 

Psychoanalysis is an evolutionary theory of in- 
stinct; it ought to become an evolutionary theory of 
the instincts. Implicit in this formula is the dif- 
ference between the two outlooks. Instead of gen- 
eralising the term * libido" to denote so comprehen- 
sive an object as ** instinctive energy," we shall pre- 
fer to speak of a ^ libido" peculiar to each instinct. 
Better still, perhaps, we shall prefer to abandon the 
concept altogether; or at least to surrender it to 
philosophy, where it may have a useful part to play 

^ Claparede, Introduction to Freud's La psychanalyse, p. 6. 



DYNAMICS OF THE AFFECTIVE LIFE 113 

(only, in that case, we may have a preference in 
France for the term ''elan vital" — vital impetus). 
We shall carefully consider the suggestion of 
Claparede, who wishes to replace the term libido by 
the term interest. It is not simply a question of 
words. ''Libido'^ is tendency looked upon as en- 
ergy. ''Interest" is a positive psychological fact, 
one which we are entitled to look upon as the sign 
of the tendency. There is no danger that the con- 
ception of interest will lead us astray in metaphysi- 
cal and mystical directions. Furthermore the advo- 
cates of "libido" conceive of it as a uniform energy, 
as being in the singular number; whereas in speech 
and thought we are accustomed to deal with "inter- 
ests" in the plural, and not with "interest per se." 
We have an "interest" for hunting, dancing, study; 
each tendency has its appropriate "interest." In- 
terest is defined as a function of the object of the 
tendency; whereas libido demands to be defined per 
se. Our view is that interest undergoes displace- 
ment, that it is transferred to new objects, that it 
evolves. We may say that a child concentrates in- 
terest on play ; a youth or a girl on study or amuse- 
ment; an adult on business, ambition, ideas. Thus 
the term "interest" is both supple and precise; it 
fulfils our desideratum; it is a psychological and 
analytical notion. Whether we adopt the word or 
not, we can in any case accept Claparede 's outlook: 
"Psychoanalysis has contributed great and splendid 
truths to psychology. It would be a pity if the ad- 
vance of the science were still to be hampered by an 
abstruse theory of the libido. Hoping to avoid this 



114 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

shoal, I have endeavonred to give the theory the 
form which seems to me the only legitimate one in 
the present state of our biological and psychological 
knowledge. No other form is legitimate, because no 
other form is intelligible." ^ 

Once more recalling Descartes ' famous rule, let us 
'* divide" our topic. We certainly shall not forget 
that instincts, like species, are akin; and that in- 
stincts, like species, attach to a primitive unity. 
But what should we think of a man of science who, 
being a theist, was satisfied to explain every natural 
phenomenon simply by the words, ^^this comes from 
God"; or of an evolutionist who was satisfied to 
explain the origin of every living being by the for- 
mula, **this is a development from the primitive 
unicellular organism"? The ^ libido" sometimes 
gives us the impression of being an explanation of 
this kind. ''This is the outcome of the libido." 
What interests science is to know how it ''is the 
outcome." 

We must therefore study each instinct separately, 
doing our utmost to trace its possible metamor- 
phoses in the human psyche, and without denying 
that the higher manifestations of this psyche may 
be the outcome of several instincts. Not only shall 
we decline to have forced upon us an alternative 
between an "explanation by the sexual instinct" or 
an "explanation by the instinct for power"; we 
shall be prepared to take into account, not merely 

1 Claparede, Supplementary note to Freud's La psychanalyse, 
p. 72. 



DYNAMICS OF THE AFFECTIVE LIFE 115 

both these instincts, but, if need be, a number of 
others as well. 

This analytical study has begun. Several British 
psychoanalysts, and in especial Eivers and Mac- 
Curdy,^ have applied Freudian methods to the diag- 
nosis and treatment of war neuroses. Their descrip- 
tion runs on parallel lines with that of Freud ; but in 
their view, in what they term war neuroses, the in- 
stinct of self-preservation takes the place given by 
Freud to the sexual instinct in the * 'peace neu- 
roses.'' In war, it is this instinct of self-preserva- 
tion which mainly tends to be repressed by the cen- 
sorship, here taking the form of the conventions of 
military life. War neurosis may manifest itself as 
** anxiety neurosis"; and this, in war patients as in 
peace patients, is the indication of an acute conflict 
between what has been repressed and the conscious- 
ness.^ 

An interesting perspective opens out to investi- 
gators in this field. We may expect that there will 
shortly be issued a series of monographs upon the 
different instincts. Pierre Bovet has led the way 
in his study of the combative instinct.^ He studies 

^ Rivers, Instinct and the Unconscious, 1920 ; The Repression 
of War Experiences, 1918. — MacCurdy, VTar Neuroses, 1918. — 
Cf. also Culpin, Psychoneuroses of War and Peace, 1920. This 
author inclines more towards Adler's outlook than towards 
Freud's. — Consult also Ernest Jones, War Shock and Freud's 
Theory of the Neuroses, in Papers on Psychoanalysis, 1918; also 
Eder, War Shock, 1917. 

2 Lepine, in his Troubles mentaux de guerre, also lays stress 
upon the kinship between the "anxiety states" of war neuroses, 
and states of conflict. 

8 Bovet, L'instinct combatif, 1917. 



116 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

the apparent suppressions of this instinct, which 
arise, either because the instinct has not been exer- 
cised during the stage of development when it nor- 
mally appears, or because it has been thwarted later 
in life. The author goes on to show the transfor- 
mations that result from these apparent suppres- 
sions. The instinct finds derivatives in sport, se- 
cures expression in the study of history, or is sub- 
limated in moral strife.^ Condensations are effected 
among the images corresponding to the various 
stages of the evolution of the instinct, leading to 
the use of fighting metaphors by the derivative or 
sublimated instinct, which thereby betrays its origin. 
Loyola, having been a soldier, becomes a soldier of 
God, and founds the Society of Jesus upon the model 
of an army. The Salvation Army is a still more 
typical instance.^ 

The remarks made incidentally by certain authors 
apropos of one instinct or another could serve as 
the starting point for such monographs. For in- 
stance Larguier des Bancels, having enumerated the 
primitive instincts, goes on to say: ^*The various 
tendencies we have just been reviewing have a much 
wider influence than is obvious at first sight. We 
must not forget that they underlie a great number 
of complex feelings. Disdain, contempt, and aloof- 
ness, are the wrappings for repulsion and disgust. 
We may say the same thing of hatred. ' ' ^ 

Is contempt merely the *' wrapping" of disgust? 

^ Bovet, L'instinct eombatif, pp. 119 et seq. 

2 Ibid., p. 157. 

3 Larguier des Bancels, op. cit., p. 213. 



DYNAMICS OF THE AFFECTIVE LIFE 117 

Could we not more appropriately speak of an ^^evo- 
lution*' of disgust. The same author, discussing 
the complementary instincts of curiosity and fear, 
writes : ^^The prestige of mystery, by which so many 
adults are still influenced, is compounded of fear 
and curiosity.'* ^ 

Both curiosity and fear, just like the sexual in- 
stinct according to Freud, and like the combative 
instinct according to Bovet, would thus appear to 
be liable to undergo a religious sublimation. It 
would be interesting to trace the history of their 
avatars. 

It would be no less interesting to trace the avatars 
of the maternal instinct. When thwarted or re- 
pressed, this instinct may induce specific dreams (as 
in the subject Martha) ; or it may find derivatives in 
art or in charitable activities, especially where these 
concern children (as in the subject Jeanne). 

We catch glimpses, also, of the wealth of knowl- 
edge that might be secured by studying the instinct 
of imitation. This instinct is thwarted in certain 
introverts. They develop an individualistic atti- 
tude, but they are fond of choosing distinguished 
models upon whom their imitative instinct is con- 
centrated (Schopenhauer, in the case of the subject 
Otto). Apparently the imitative instinct may un- 
dergo sublimation, and The Imitation of Christ is a 
mystical type of this sublimation. The phenomena 
of the search for a guide, those of ^^ affective trans- 
ference" on to the analyst, those of responsiveness 
to suggestive treatment — phenomena hitherto 

^Larguier des Baneels, op. eit., p. 220. 



118 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

studied by psychoanalysts as functions of the sexual 
instinct — ^might have further light thrown on them 
by being studied also as functions of the imitative 
instinct. 

However, this monographic outlook must not make 
us lose sight of the synthesis towards which we must 
tend. Wherever we detect ties between different 
instincts, we must take careful note of the fact. 
MacCurdy, for example (in conformity with Dumas ^ 
and most of the trustworthy observers of war neu- 
roses during the late war), declares that the war 
neurosis, or the neurosis of self-preservation, is not 
a special disease. It is, he says, the outcome of the 
same predispositions as those which could have in- 
duced an ordinary neurosis, a sexual neurosis. 
Many patients suffering from war neurosis have dis- 
played symptoms of claustrophobia, timidity, fear 
of the sexual^ (introvert type; in MacCurdy 's ter- 
minology, the seclusive tendency). In like manner 
Bovet shows that there are remarkable ties between 
the combative instinct and the sexual instinct; and 
that in all species the combative instinct is closely 
connected with the instinct of courtship. It is cer- 
tain, also, that instincts have a strong tendency to 
undergo extroversion or introversion in groups. 
Eepression of the combative instinct goes hand in 
hand with repression of the sexual instinct and of 
the social instinct. But all these syntheses, and 
others yet more general, must only be undertaken 
as the crown of our researches. 

^ Dumas, Troubles mentaux et nerveux de guerre, 1919. 
2 MacCurdy, op. cit., p. 34. 



I 



DYNAMICS OF THE AFFECTIVE LIFE 119 

This theory of mental evolution, long since fore- 
shadowed in philosophy, but to which psychoanalysis 
has given body, is not a discouraging view. The 
possibility of transforming instinct gives new lights 
to educators, who have hitherto been in doubt 
whether to ignore instinct or to repress it. Hence 
Drever and Bovet offer their respective books In- 
stinct in Man and L' instinct comhatif as contribu- 
tions to the psychology of education. Even the 
disciples of a spiritualist philosophy have no more 
occasion to take offence at this theory of mental 
evolution than at the theory of organic evolution. 
Such a dynamic outlook would merely make it neces- 
sary for the adherents of a spiritualist philosophy 
to state likewise in dynamic terms its fundamental 
problem, that of matter and form. Maeder is well 
aware of this when he writes: **I therefore distin- 
guish clearly, side by side with the energetic factor 
(which is the essence of Jung's concept of libido), 
a factor coordinated therewith, the factor of direc- 
tion (orientation). From the static point of view 
we rightly distinguish between content and form. 
Here we have to distinguish between the stream (the 
energy) and the direction."^ 

Those only who know very little about psycho- 
analysis can take offence at its generalisations. 
What does it matter if a higher feeling owes its 
origin to a crude instinct? Origin is not identity; 
it is not even causality in the philosophic sense. 
Have we not good reason to congratulate ourselves 
on having advanced so far along the road? 
^ Maeder, Guerison et evolution dans la vie de Fame, 1918, p. 67. 



120 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

Everyone knows tlie poem Boaz endormi: 

While Boaz was sleeping, Euth, a Moabite, 
Lay stretched at his feet, her bosom bare. 

From this seduction there was to be born a race 
which Boaz sees in a dream : 

Such was his dream that Boaz saw an oak 

Which, issuing from his belly, stretched up into the sky ; 

A race was climbing it like a long chain : 

A king was singing beneath, above a god was dying.^ 

Here we have the poem of sublimation. The manu- 
script shows that Hugo had first written ^'issuing 
from his loins''; then, feeling the need for frank- 
ness, he had decided (like Freud) in favour of the 
cruder word. The tree which is growing thus bears 
the poet-king David ; and, higher up, Christ. I find 
the idea that all poetry, all glory, all holiness, have 
this lowly origin, no more offensive than I find 
Darwin's idea of the ^* descent of man," 

^ Victor Hugo, Legende des siecles. 



CHAPTER FOUR 

MIXED METHOD; PSYCHOANALYSIS AND SUGGESTION 

1, Contrast 

Suggestion is in bad repute among psychoanalysts. 
Nevertheless, psychoanalysis took its rise ont of 
theories of suggestion and hypnosis. 

Freud was a pupil of Charcot at the Salpetriere; 
he witnessed also some of Bernheim's work at 
Nancy. He translated writings both by Charcot and 
by Bemheim into German. His studies concerning 
hysteria, which were the starting point of his own 
researches, were greatly influenced by Charcot and 
by the initial work of Pierre Janet upon psycho- 
logical automatism. At the date when he was col- 
laborating with Breuer, the hypnotic method was 
regarded as the preeminent means for the study of 
the subconscious; it was in subjects in the hypnotic 
state, and through hypnotic methods of investiga- 
tion, that Breuer discovered the central fact that 
certain neurotic symptoms have a psychological sig- 
nificance. It was from this discovery that psycho- 
analysis was to issue. Freud relates the matter as 
follows : 

'*The morbid symptoms disappeared when, under 
hypnosis, the patient recalled, with physical signs 
indicative of emotion, how these symptoms had first 

121 



122 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

been induced. During that summer there had been 
a spell of excessively hot weather, and the patient 
had suffered greatly from thirst because, without 
knowing why, she had suddenly become unable to 
drink. She would take a glass of water into her 
hand, but as soon as it touched her lips she would 
thrust it away again like a patient with hydropho- 
bia. During these few seconds there was evidently 
a lapse of consciousness. She ate nothing but fruit, 
in order to relieve her thirst. This had been going 
on for about six weeks when one day, under hyp- 
nosis, she complained of her English governess, 
whom she did not like. She went on to say, with all 
the signs of intense disgust, that she had been in her 
governess' room, and that the latter 's pet dog, a 
horrid little beast, had drunk out of a glass. From 
politeness, she had said nothing at the time. Hav- 
ing finished this recital, she showed signs of intense 
anger, though she had hitherto been perfectly calm. 
Then she asked for some water, drank a large quan- 
tity, and awoke from the hjrpnosis with the glass at 
her lips. Her trouble was permanently cured." ^ 

Freud has never made any secret of what he owes 
to Charcot, Janet, and Bernheim, or of what he owes 
to his collaboration with Breuer. He writes mod- 
estly: **The credit, if credit there be, for having 
introduced psychoanalysis to the world does not be- 
long to me."^ Furthermore, as we shall see in a 
moment, Freud has never shown as regards sugges- 
tion the intolerance which is somewhat fashionable 

^ Freud, La psyehanalyse, p. 27. 
2 Ibid., p. 23. 



PSYCHOANALYSIS AND SUGGESTION 123 

in this respect among psychoanalysts. In this mat- 
ter, as in others, his doctrine is less absolute and 
more catholic than it is usually represented as be- 
ing. 

But the fact that psychoanalysis took its rise out 
of suggestion is precisely one of the reasons why 
many psychoanalysts have a prejudice against sug- 
gestion. They are influenced rather by an ill-defined 
feeling than by a clear idea, but they like to look 
upon psychoanalysis as the development of sugges- 
tion and as its climax. They consider that psycho- 
therapeutics has made a new departure, and that 
suggestion is obsolete. Let us consider this no- 
tion. 

There are more definite reasons to fortify the 
prejudice just described. The prejudice is the out- 
come of a theory held by the Salpetriere School, ac- 
cording to which suggestion is intimately associated 
with hypnosis, and according to which hypnosis itself 
is a morbid state. 

This view, rejuvenated by the data of psycho- 
analysis, has been succinctly formulated by 
Ferenczi.^ 

According to this author, hypnosis is the analogue 
of neurosis. It might be called an artificial neu- 
rosis, definable in the terms which Freud has pro- 
posed for the definition of neurosis. On the other 
hand, Ferenczi is at one with the New Nancy School 
(see below, p. 129) when he considers that in the 
phenomena of suggestion the subject is the main 

^Ferenczi, Introjektion und Uebertragung, 1910. 



124 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

factor, or in other words that every suggestion im- 
plies an autosuggestion. But the existence of auto- 
suggestion does not seem to him to invalidate his 
thesis. Autosuggestion, a phenomenon initiated 
within the subject ^s own nervous system, can, in 
truth, be more legitimately compared with neurosis 
than if it were a phenomenon due to the influence 
of the operator upon the subject. 

**The action of the suggester may well be com- 
pared with the cause that initiates a psychoneu- 
rosis." 

If, against this theory, we raise the objection that 
the majority of persons are susceptible to sugges- 
tion or capable of being hypnotised, Ferenczi re- 
joins: *^ According to the experience of psycho- 
analysts, the fact that a very high percentage of 
normal persons can be hypnotised is an argument 
in favour of the view that most persons are liable to 
become affected with a psychoneurosis, rather than 
an argument against the theory that hypnosis and 
neurosis are essentially identical." 

The author is categorical in his assertion of this 
identity: **The hypnotiser cannot really arouse any 
other manifestations than those which neurosis 
spontaneously induces." 

As for suggestibility, this should be regarded as 
a manifestation of infantile regression. Hypnotic 
influence has as its basis a parental complex, one of 
attachment to the father or to the mother. This, 
sexually tinged, is subconsciously transferred by the 
subject on to the hypnotiser. Hypnotic processes 
can be classed in two categories. Hypnosis may be 



PSYCHOANALYSIS AND SUGGESTION 125 

induced either by fear or by love, either by severity 
or by kindness. We are entitled to characterise the 
respective forms by contrasting them as *^ paternal 
hypnosis'' and ^* maternal hypnosis." Ferenczi 
goes on to say: **Thus suggestion and hypnosis may 
be regarded as nothing more than the intentional 
production of conditions in which the tendency to 
blind faith and unrestricted obedience becomes ef- 
fective. This tendency exists in everyone, as a ves- 
tige of the infantile-erotic feelings of love and fear 
for the parents, but ordinarily it is repressed by the 
censorship. Through suggestion and hypnosis, it 
may unconsciously be transferred on to the person- 
ality of the hypnotiser or suggester." 

Such is Ferenczi 's thesis, and, even if we were to 
accept it, it would not be a decisive objection to hyp- 
nosis and suggestion. Charcot and many others 
looked upon these phenomena as pathological, term- 
ing them hysterical; but were not thereby deterred 
from turning hypnotism and suggestion to account 
therapeutically. Because a substance is poisonous, 
we must not therefore infer that it can have no cura- 
tive value. Still, if it be poisonous, we should think 
twice before using it. Charcot has been widely 
blamed as a cultivator of hysteria. Unquestionably, 
Ferenczi 's thesis leaves on our minds an impression 
by no means favourable to suggestion. 

We reach the main objection, and I hasten to 
admit that it requires serious consideration. It has 
been clearly expounded, in a comment upon one of 
his cases, by Odier, who shows that in this instance, 



126 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

where psychoanalysis effected a cure, '* hypnosis was 
inefficacious and harmful/' ^ The same, or a similar, 
objection has been made by other psychoanalysts. 

It is founded upon two essential phenomena dis- 
closed by psychoanalysis in the study of the dynamics 
of neurosis. These phenomena are repression and 
derivation. 

The repression of experiences and tendencies into 
the subconscious has been shown to be one of the 
determinants of neurosis. Whether we have to do 
with an experience to which the reaction has been 
inadequate, or with a tendency which has been sys- 
tematically thwarted, the energy thus repressed 
seeks derivatives ; as we have seen, an aim for such 
derivations is provided by imaginative displace- 
ments. The symptoms of neurosis are derivatives 
of this kind ; like dreams, they are a symbolical trans- 
lation of what has been repressed. Psychoanalysis 
sets the patient free by revealing the play of repres- 
sion and derivation, by bringing into consciousness 
that which was subconscious. 

Now what does suggestion do! It denies the 
symptom. It orders the symptom to become non- 
existent. Under the menace of vade retro, the 
demon may not improbably disappear. But sug- 
gestion, acting in this fashion, has acted just like 
repression. It has been an artificial repression, and 
if repression was the original determinant of the 
neurosis it is easy to see that there may be kinship 
between suggestion and neurosis. What has become 

^ Odier, A propos d'un cas de contracture hysterique, 1914. 
p. 191. 



PSYCHOANALYSIS AND SUGGESTION 127 

of the repressed symptom? Psychoanalytical ex- 
perience leads us to suppose that it does not really 
cease to exist, but merely undergoes transformation ; 
that the energy which animated it finds a derivative. 
Thus the demons leave the body of the demoniac 
simply in order to enter the herd of swine. The 
symptom, indeed, does not leave the subject's body, 
but merely undergoes a change of place and form; 
driven out of one habitat, it reappears in another; 
it has doubtless become unrecognisable, but psycho- 
analysis is competent to penetrate the disguise. Ac- 
cording to this view, suggestion can deal only with 
symptoms; it can merely cut off the shoots without 
touching the root of the evil, and the morbid sap 
will find its way into other shoots. Psychoanalysis 
alone can effect a radical cure. 



2. Conciliation 

Are these two methods irreconcilable? Pfister, a 
psychoanalyst whose views are broad and tolerant, 
does not think so, and he aptly reminds us that 
Freud does not think so: *^ Freud has never main- 
tained that psychoanalysis can, unaided, invariably 
effect a cure. He has never opposed a combina- 
tion of his own method with other methods, pro- 
vided that nothing is done to interfere with the 
course of the analysis. In slight cases, he has even 
favoured a purely suggestive treatment. But pre- 
mature suggestion paves the way for disillusionment 
and makes our educational task more difficult. . . ." 
Passing on to the more specifically educational point 



128 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

of view, Pfister writes: *^ Speaking generally, we 
shall not resort to a far-reaching analysis unless the 
further development of the individual is seriously 
hampered. Freud himself shares this view. If 
suggestion, or a good education in accordance with 
sound pedagogical principles, suffices to relieve the 
symptoms, let us follow the simpler course.'' ^ 

These are wise words. Wise, too, are the words 
of Pierre Janet. Speaking of the decadence of hyp- 
notism and suggestion that followed upon their first 
vogue, Janet refuses to see anything beyond a tem- 
porary eclipse. He does not regard very seriously 
these fluctuations of which the history of science 
offers so many instances.^ 

The criticisms of the psychoanalysts are, more- 
over, well-grounded in many cases, as far as con- 
cerns suggestion as it was understood by the early 
schools, and as it is still understood by most per- 
sons. But when we turn to consider suggestion as 
it is understood by the New Nancy School (1910- 
1920), a school of which few psychoanalysts know 
anything, the problem assumes a new aspect. This 
is not the place for a recapitulation of what I have 
written elsewhere concerning the present position of 
the theory of suggestion.^ I merely wish to exam- 
ine the objections enumerated above in the light of 
the theory that has been elaborated at Nancy. 



^Pfister, La psychanalyse au service des educateurs, 1921, pp. 
164, 184 ; German original, 1917, pp. 94, 105 ; English translation, 
pp. 140, 156. 

2 Janet, Les medications psychologiques, 1919, vol. i., p. 187. 

2 Baudouin, Suggestion et autosuggestion, 1920. 



PSYCHOANALYSIS AND SUGGESTION 129 

From Bernheim and Liebault to Coue,^ from the 
first Nancy School to the second, the theory and the 
practice of suggestion exhibit a remarkable evolu- 
tion. Those who believe suggestion to be obsolete, 
those who contrast new methods with it, fail to take 
this evolution into account. The present theory of 
autosuggestion has issued from the theories of sug- 
gestion and hypnotism held in the year 1880, just as 
psychoanalysis has issued from those theories; but 
whereas psychoanalysis is mainly derived from the 
ideas of the Salpetriere School, autosuggestion is in 
the line of descent from the first Nancy School. 

We have here two parallel and independent evolu- 
tions, and they would gain by becoming better ac- 
quainted. There are some very interesting points 
about this historical parallelism. At the same date, 
1885-6, Freud was working under Charcot and Coue 
was watching the experiments of Liebault. It 
would, of course, be absurd to institute a close com- 
parison between men so different as Coue and 
Freud. Coue is what Liebault was, a simple country 
doctor; he is a man of action and an apostle; his 
sole aim is to restore health and happiness to thou- 
sands, and he leaves it to others to discover the 
philosophy that guides his brilliantly successful 
practice. Freud, on the other hand, little concerned 
about social issues, is the constructor of a whole 
system of ideas. Nevertheless the two movements 
can be compared, and have been compared. They 
have this in common, that they have given an unpre- 

^ Coue, La maitrise de soi-meme par Fautosuggestion consciente, 
1921. 



130 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

cedented extension to the laws of tlie subconscious, 
regarded as laws of the normal working of the 
mind; and that upon these laws they have founded 
curative and educative practical methods which are 
far more ambitious than were those of the earlier 
psychotherapeutists. Strange as the comparison 
may seem, because of these ambitions both the 
schools have been compared (by some in derision, 
and by some in homage) to mystical schools like that 
of Christian Science. There are close similarities 
between some of the conclusions to which the re- 
spective theories have led. For example, the psy- 
choanalytical theory that mental slips and quasi- 
mechanical movements betray the wishes of the sub- 
conscious, harmonises with the theory of those who 
hold that suggestion (autosuggestion) exercises, 
through the instrumentality of our subconscious 
movements, some degree of control over the hap- 
penings of our lives. The practitioners of autosug- 
gestion, like the psychoanalysts, have almost com- 
pletely abandoned the use of hypnosis, not because 
they consider it dangerous, but because, in most in- 
stances, a simpler method is available. In both 
cases a parallel progress has been the cause of the 
abandonment of hypnotism. Thanks to a growing 
knowledge of the laws of the subconscious and of 
the imagination, it has become possible to set agoing 
in the waking state mechanisms which previously 
could only be set agoing with the aid of hypnosis; 
this being achieved in the waking state, either by 
the exhumation of lost or misunderstood memories, 
or else by inducing a mutinous nervous system to 



PSYCHOANALYSIS AND SUGGESTION 131 

make its submission to the intelligence. Finally, 
both methods are essentially educative, even though 
both are chiefly employed for curative purposes. If 
the master exercises a certain authority, he does so 
only for a brief season, and his persistent aim is 
to set the pupil free. Autosuggestion can even be 
applied in the absence of any director, and simply 
as the outcome of reading a manual, for in the case 
of autosuggestion it is preeminently true that there 
is no absolute need for the affective dependence of 
the subject upon an operator. 

Autosuggestion was in the air in 191Q, for we have 
seen that Ferenczi, working from the psychoanalyti- 
cal side, was led to regard every suggestion as an 
autosuggestion. Nevertheless he continued to look 
upon autosuggestion as a symptom of neurosis. Is 
there any justification for this viewf 

One thing which Ferenczi says is perfectly true. 
The fact that suggestion is operative in a very large 
percentage of subjects, perhaps in all or nearly all 
(as Cone asserts, and as I agree), does not, per se, 
prove that suggestion is normal, or that it has no 
kinship with neurosis. A phenomenon which occurs 
in everyone is not necessarily ^^ normal," in the sense 
of *^ healthy/' if its universal occurrence be induced. 
Everyone can be influenced by suggestion? Every- 
one can influence himself by suggestion"? No 
doubt, but we can poison everyone, and everyone can 
poison himself. Here is a simple and obvious ob- 
jection, but it is one to which suggesters have rarely 
paid adequate attention. 

If we are entitled to consider suggestion, theoreti- 



132 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

cally identifiable with autosuggestion, as a normal 
phenomenon, this is not merely because it is of con- 
stant occurrence, but because it occurs spontane- 
ously. When we produce this phenomenon to order, 
we do not really produce it, we reproduce it. The 
theory of suggestion which I have expounded in 
Suggestion and Autosuggestion, is based on the dis- 
tinction between spontaneous suggestion and re- 
flective suggestion. Educative or therapeutic sug- 
gestion merely brings into play the psychological 
laws which are normally and continually in opera- 
tion; it serves merely to guide their working 
towards a definite end. Is not this simply a part of 
the progressive conquest achieved by mankind over 
tendencies and impulses, which have been coordi- 
nated into deliberate actions T 

The fact remains that in the practice of suggestion 
there is requisite a peculiar state of the attention, 
known as contention or concentration, and that this 
state has some kinship with hypnosis. But conten- 
tion or concentration can arise spontaneously in us 
all, whenever our attention is immobilised, or lulled 
by monotonous sensations. It cannot be regarded as 
pathological; and the fact that we employ it delib- 
erately at a given moment, does not make it patho- 
logical. If the question of morbidity may perhaps 
arise in connection with states of profound hypnosis 
(which are beside the question here, since they have 
nothing to do with the practical methods we are now 
considering), it certainly does not arise as far as 
concerns the states of concentration which are the 
necessary and sufficient precondition of suggestion. 



PSYCHOANALYSIS AND SUGGESTION 133 

Furthermore, suggestion as practised at Nancy 
has never shown itself to be a culture medium for 
neuroses. That is the important point. Perhaps 
suggestion may bring into play certain mechanisms 
which are also at work in neurosis. If this be true, 
there must be the same sort of relationship between 
suggestion and neurosis as between art and neurosis, 
and we might say of suggestion, substituting one 
term for the other, what we said of art: **A sugges- 
tion is a successful neurosis; a neurosis is an un- 
successful suggestion.*' But in this case, likewise, 
we must bear in mind that there is a great difference 
between success and failure. In a word, if we had 
to accept such a theory, we could say in psycho- 
analytic terminology that suggestion is a form of 
sublimation. 

Suggestion, we shall be told, might be regarded as 
a form of sublimation, were it not that it is a repres- 
sion followed by a disastrous derivation. Here we 
reach the last and most important objection. The 
rejoinder is supplied by one of the laws of subcon- 
scious activity, a law which is quite as important as 
the laws of repression and derivation. I have for- 
mulated it as the law of subconscious teleology, and 
it is confirmed every day by the practice of autosug- 
gestion. The law runs as follows : ^'Suggestion acts 
hy subconscious teleology; when the end has been 
suggested, the subconscious finds means for its real- 
isation/'^ Posthypnotic suggestion, in which the 
subject (unaware that the act he performs has been 

^ Baudouin, op. eit., p. 97 ; English translation, p. 117. 



134. STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

suggested to him) finds excellent reasons for what 
he is doing, was one of the first manifestations of 
this law to be noted. Here we are in touch with the 
phenomenon known to psychoanalysts as rationalisa- 
tion, but the law of subconscious teleology has much 
wider scope. We know that suggestion can effect 
the cure of functional and even of organic disease — 
for the cure of organic disease, foreseen by earlier 
investigators, is categorically asserted by the New 
Nancy School. But even where functional diseases 
are concerned, such cures presuppose an intricate 
physiological working which takes place in the ab- 
sence of any detailed suggestions. The end has 
been suggested, but the subject may be entirely 
ignorant of physiology and may remain quite un- 
aware of what is going on within him. This law is 
of primary/ importance. A knowledge of it has led 
Cone to substitute to an increasing extent positivie 
and GENERAL, suggestions for negative and particu- 
lar suggestions. 

We use positive suggestions; that is to say, we 
aim at affirming the desirable state, rather than at 
denying the undesirable state. As I have said else- 
where: '^Veni Creator is, in all respects, a far more 
potent exorcism than Vade retro Sat ana. We get 
rid of evil by filling its place with good." ^ We use 
general suggestions; that is to say, we direct our 
thoughts towards the general state of good health, 
towards self-confidence, etc., rather than inclining 
to dwell much on specific symptoms. 

Experience shows that these positive and general 
^ Op. cit., p. 153 ; English translation, p. 180. 



PSYCHOANALYSIS AND SUGGESTION 135 

suggestions are extremely effective. Thanks to tlie 
law of subconscious teleology, it is needless to par- 
ticularise by name each one of the devils to be exor- 
cised. 

When such suggestions cure nervous troubles, have 
we any right to talk of repression? I do not think 
so. If we recall the comparison of repression to a 
dam, and of derivation to a side branch into which 
the pent-up stream now flows, such a suggestion does 
not concern itself with the evil derivative, with the 
sluggish backwater which is the morbid symptom; 
the suggestion does not build a new dam in the mor- 
bid channel, which might make the waters flow in a 
yet more disastrous direction. The suggestion 
works by opening a new derivative, rational and 
beneficent; by opening a new channel along which 
the stream then flows spontaneously. 

If, however, we find it necessary to formulate a 
detailed and negative suggestion (I am assuming 
that we think only of symptoms of nervous origin, 
since we are not for the moment concerned with the 
other applications of suggestion), there can be no 
doubt that the psychoanalysts' objection is valid, 
and that repression is at work. But we must not 
therefore unconditionally condemn such a form of 
suggestion, for it can always be supplemented by 
positive and general suggestions. To return to our 
simile, it is as if we were simultaneously damming 
up the undesirable backwater and opening a new 
and satisfactory channel. While this work is in 
progress, certain fluctuations may occur; we may 
find that a rebellious symptom undergoes a displace- 



136 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

ment whereby the patient's condition is improved. 
This is what happened to the neuralgia from which 
the subject Bertha was suffering. Under treatment 
by suggestion, it was displaced and became less 
severe. Subsequently a complete cure was effected, 
as soon as psychoanalysis had revealed the real cause 
of the malady. 

When we recall, as we have just recalled, that 
psychoanalysis was at first practised upon subjects 
in the hypnotic state, that is developed out of hyp- 
notic methods, we cannot fail to recognise that 
neither suggestion, nor hypnosis itself, need per- 
force lead to repression ; we realise on the contrary, 
that suggestion, in hypnotised subjects, can set free, 
can relieve ; we realise that, in hypnosis and through 
hypnosis, suggestion is competent to exhume what 
has been repressed. 

Suggestion in the waking state can play the same 
part. It was used by Freud after he had given up 
the hypnotic method, and before he had adopted the 
extant method of association and of the analysis of 
dreams. Let us quote Freud. 

**The problem was that the patient had to be 
taught something which the physician did not know 
and which the patient had ceased to be aware of. 
How was this to be achieved? I then remembered 
having seen a remarkable and instructive experi- 
ment performed by Bernheim at Nancy. Bernheim 
had shown us that the persons in whom he had in- 
duced hypnotic somnambulism, and whom he had 
made perform various acts, although they appeared 



PSYCHOANALYSIS AND SUGGESTION 137 

to have forgotten what they had witnessed and what 
they had done under hypnotism, had not really for- 
gotten; he showed that it was possible to revive 
these memories in the waking state. If, after such 
patients have been reawakened, we question them 
about what has happened, they declare at first that 
they know nothing of the matter ; but if we persist, 
if we return to the charge, if we assure them that 
they can remember, the lost memories return in their 
entirety. 

'*I pursued this plan with my own patients. When 
they said that they knew nothing more, I assured 
them that they did know, that they had merely to go 
on talking; and I even declared that the memory 
which surged up at the moment when I placed my 
hand on the patient's forehead would be the right 
memory. In this way I was able, without employing 
hypnotism, to teach my patients all that was requisite 
to restore the relationship between the forgotten 
pathogenic scenes, and the symptoms that were the 
residue of these. In the long run, however, the 
process proved tedious and exhausting, so that it 
was unsuitable as the basis of a definitive tech- 
nique. ' ' ^ 

It does not follow that this method, or some similar 
method, will prove unsuitable as an auxiliary tech- 
nique. In many cases, a subject has nothing what- 
ever to say regarding some memory or association; 
or the subject has merely the vague sense that there 
is a reminiscence which cannot be clearly recalled. 
In such instances, I have sometimes taken out my 

^ Freud, La psychanalyse, pp. 35-6. 



138 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

watch and, showing it to the subject before laying it 
on the table, I have declared that the missing mem- 
ory would become perfectly clear in five minutes. 
We would then go on talking of other things, the 
subject not consciously watching the passage of time ; 
but after the lapse of five minutes, neither more nor 
less, our conversation would be interrupted by the 
explanation: *^Ah, now I remember!" 

Above all, suggestion can aid the clarifying process 
of the analysis if the operator assures the subject, 
once for all, that the latter 's reminiscences will be 
revived with increasing facility, and that dreams will 
in future be remembered without any difficulty. A 
direct suggestion may even be given that the sub- 
ject will be less and less inclined to repress what is 
now hidden in the subconscious. Furthermore, the 
operator can make use of suggestion to minimise the 
distress which sometimes attends the work of anal- 
ysis — just as, by suggestion, anaesthesia can be in- 
duced for the performance of a surgical operation. 

But suggestion is not only useful during the con- 
duct of the analysis ; it is likewise helpful, and pre- 
eminently so, in the guidance of the subject. Inas- 
much as suggestion is at times competent, unaided, 
to bring about beneficial derivations of the nervous 
force that has been hemmed up in the blind alley 
of a symptom, a fortiori it is competent to assist 
psychoanalysis in this task. 

We see, then, that a collaboration, an enduring 
collaboration, of the two methods is possible. My 
personal experience has confirmed theory in this 
matter. I find that a great deal of time and trouble 



PSYCHOANALYSIS AND SUGGESTION 139 

is saved by the use of suggestion in conjunction witli 
psychoanalysis. 

"When discussing the thesis expounded by Ferenczi, 
I purposely left unconsidered the question of the 
transference which was supposed to underlie sug- 
gestibility. This transference,^ in virtue of which 
the subject subconsciously brings into relation with 
the operator all kinds of infantile and sexual feel- 
ings, is not peculiar to suggestion. Indeed, its oc- 
currence first became apparent during the practice 
of psychoanalysis, and it has been made a ground 
for objecting to that practice. The rejoinder of the 
psychoanalysts, and especially of Ferenczi, is to 
demonstrate that the transference in question is not 
a direct consequence of the psychoanalysis, and that 
it occurs in other circumstances, as for instance in 
suggestion. 

Psychoanalytical interpretation must unquestion- 
ably be invoked to throw light upon the intricate 
and hitherto obscure phenomena of the affective rela- 
tionship which arises, during suggestion and in other 
ways, between subject and director. Psychoanalysis 
will elucidate this feeling, as it elucidates other 
human feelings, by discovering in it, too, ** sexual" 
and '' infantile'' elements; it will not therefore con- 
demn the feeling. No psychoanalyst would, indeed, 
dream of condemning it, since psychoanalytical treat- 
ment would itself be involved in the condemnation. 

** Transference on to the analyst" in psychoana- 
lytical consultations is regarded by psychoanalysts 
1 Freud, Zur Dynamik der Uebertragung. 



140 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

as a preeminent variety of such transferences. All 
the previously repressed *^ affects/' being suddenly 
set free by the analysis, are supposed to seek forth- 
with an object to which they can secure fixation; and 
the first object they encounter is, we are told, the per- 
sonality of the analyst. These * * affects ' ' are regarded 
as being more or less definitely sexual in origin. 

According to Pierre Janet, there is * ^ a large meas- 
ure of truth" in this thesis of sexual transference. 
*'We must recognise," he writes, *Hhat in a certain 
number of cases the patient's words and gestures 
are absolutely identical with those of persons in 
love. Probably there is an analogy between their 
feelings and those inspired by sexual love."^ 

Nor have I any thought of denying the occur- 
rence of ^^transference." In the present volume, I 
record a fairly typical instance (Eynaldo). But in 
this matter, as in others, I should prefer to avoid an 
apriori formulation of the problem simply as a func- 
tion of the sexual instinct. I am inclined rather to 
ask to what extent the imitative instinct may be at 
work here ; to what extent fear is operative in arous- 
ing the sense that there is need for a protector; and 
so on. In my opinion, ^ ' transference " is an even more 
complicated affair than has been supposed; and I 
am doubtful whether it is as stereotyped as most 
psychoanalysts declare. If we invite the subject to 
expect its appearance in a certain form, and if we 
ourselves expect it to appear in this form, the odds 
are that, thanks to the working of suggestion, the 
expected will happen. Let the reader recall the law 

^ Janet, Les medications psychologiques, vol. iii., p. 403. 



PSYCHOANALYSIS AND SUGGESTION 141 

of tlie *Hliree states'' (lethargy, catalepsy, and som- 
nambulism) through which all Charcot's hypnotised 
subjects passed. The law was true at the Salpetriere. 
It was not true at Nancy, because here the collective 
suggestion that determined the appearance of these 
three states had not been made. No doubt the three 
states of lethargy, catalepsy, and somnambulism oc- 
curred at Nancy; but at Nancy their appearance in 
a definite order, as the outcome of an invariable 
method of procedure, was no longer an absolute law 
of hypnotism. Is it anything to our discredit if we 
should find it necessary to make the avowal that at 
Geneva our subjects are less inclined to show a pas- 
sion for (or against )the analyst than they show at 
Vienna or Zurich! 

It would seem that ** transference, '* which is an 
undeniable fact, takes the form, erotic or other, that 
is imposed on it by suggestion. The most important 
suggestion, in this connection, is the analysts 's con- 
viction of the form the transference will take, for 
involuntarily he suggests this form to the subject. 
Suggestions of such a character are some of the nu- 
merous spontaneous suggestions which are inevita- 
bly made in the course of the analysis; they ought 
to be guided, to be transformed into purposive and 
well-defined suggestions. We can ''cultivate'' a 
morbid transference, just as it has been possibble to 
' 'cultivate hysteria. " It is equally possible to avoid 
doing anything of the kind. I consider that sug- 
gestion will often enable us, by a direct route, to 
open to the subject's interest, to his "libido," 
healthy and broad outlooks towards mankind and 



142 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

the world. If we do this successfully, the crisis of 
** fixation upon the analyst*' is likely to pass un- 
noticed. 

** Transference" is the fundamental condition un- 
derlying * ^ influence "or * * moral guidance. ' ' It thus 
serves as an additional link between psychoanalysis 
and suggestion, both of which are based upon this 
** influence" and this ^^ guidance." Indeed, at one 
time suggestion was identified with them, until, by 
degrees, people came to recognise in suggestion a 
phenomenon peculiar to itself, namely, ideoreflex 
power or autosuggestion. This does not involve 
the denial that an affective relationship, a ^'trans- 
ference," remains a potent factor of suggestion. 
Where affective relationship exists, suggestion finds 
the ground well prepared. This amounts to saying 
that psychoanalytical practice is an excellent field for 
suggestion, and that suggestions will inevitably be 
made in the course of psychoanalysis ; it amounts to 
saying that however much the analyst may wish to 
ignore suggestion, he cannot help himself in this 
matter, and that he would act much more wisely 
were he to recognise that he is making suggestions, 
and to attempt to guide them. By adopting trans- 
ference, by admitting with good reason that a rela- 
tionship of deep sympathy arises between subject 
and analyst, psychoanalysts have adopted sugges- 
tion willy-nilly. Those who proceed to renounce 
suggestion are like the child who wanted to go to 
the Midnight Mass if only it could be celebrated in 
the daytime! 



PSYCHOANALYSIS AND SUGGESTION 143 

The trouble is that people used to consider the 
hypnotiser's or suggester's influence as a more or 
less occult power attaching to his personality, 
whereas according to the psychoanalysts the secret 
of the influence resides in the affective disposition 
of the subject. The old theory is still a popular 
conviction, but the psychoanalytical view certainly 
takes us nearer to the heart of the matter. We 
must, however, bear in mind that the affective dis- 
position of the subject and the personal influence of 
the director are merely the obverse and the reverse 
of the same phenomenon, and that personal influ- 
ence is a reality. It, too, must be taken into consid- 
eration before we can lay the foundations of a com- 
plete psychology of ** transference." In so far as 
the psychoanalyst exercises such an influence, it is 
the outcome of a mingling of numerous qualities, 
which we cannot always expect to find assembled 
in the same individual: such qualities as the quasi- 
artistic talent for intuitively divining the subcon- 
scious, a severely critical sense, firmness and deci- 
sion, confidence and self-command, sympathy, moral 
value — all the qualities which characterise a great 
spiritual director.^ 

^ Confession has been termed an "anticipation of psychoanal- 
ysis." A Roman Catholic writer (Cochet, Psychoanalyse et mys- 
ticisme, p. 562), though strongly critical of psychoanalysis, writes: 
"Without transference, no cure. As soon as transference has 
occurred, the doctor^s task of moral regeneration resembles that 
with which Catholic confessors are familiar. It is of great value 
in a Protestant land, where so many young men suffer from hid- 
den troubles and unavowed torments." 



PART TWO 

CASE HISTOEIES 



CHAPTER FIVE 

CHILDEEN 

The psyclioanalysis of children, especially of young 
children, cannot in most cases be systematically 
made, for, in them, questioning to discover associa- 
tions is often difficult. It is better to take the asso- 
ciations as they come, and for this the observer 
must either live with the child or must get his in- 
formation from those who do so. 

It was by means of such chance observations that 
I was enabled to analyse the dreams of the two 
little girls, Linette and Mireille. Though of differ- 
ent ages, they showed the same conflict: a very 
strong attachment to the mother (partly due to the 
father's absence), and a marked difficulty in detach- 
ing a share of interest from the mother in order to 
apply it to life in general. Life always seemed some- 
thing forbidden and dangerous. The foreshadow- 
ings of sexuality were accompanied by intense dis- 
tress, manifesting itself in nightmares. 

In the next two cases, those of Eobert and Jean, 
I give analyses of school essays. These can be 
analysed just like a dream or a poem, especially 
when the writer is imaginative. Above all, the 
method is valuable when the teacher has left some 
freedom in the choice of subject, for then the imagi- 
nation has free play, or, to put the matter more 

147 



148 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

accurately, it is then entirely controlled by tlie child's 
subconscious. Pfister has shown how psychoanal- 
ysis can be turned to account at school but the tech- 
nique of such analyses still remains to be deter- 
mined. I think that school essays furnish abundant 
material, and here we have an additional reason 
for preferring those in which the choice of topic has 
been left to the child's imagination free from out- 
ward constraint. The analysis will sometimes ap- 
prise teachers of humiliating but valuable truths 
concerning the child's intimate reactions to its edu- 
cation. Robert is not sparing in the disclosure of 
such truths. As for Jean, he reveals a protest 
against paternal authority. 

In default of psychoanalysis, it is difficult for 
adults to realise how intense and even tragical are 
the conflicts that may disturb the child mind, even 
at the early age of four. These conflicts are the 
germs of those which may subsequently develop into 
neuroses, or may give rise to all kinds of crises. 
If we make ourselves acquainted with them, we may 
hope to guard against such evil consequences. 

Of course when we are dealing with children, and 
above all when we are dealing with young children, 
there can be no question of explaining the conflict 
to the subject, as we should explain it to an adult. 
Still less can there be any question of making the 
child's upper consciousness fully aware of the inad- 
missible desires which are manifest in the subcon- 
scious. But the educator, when he has discovered 
anything of the kind, must note the fact, and must 
take measures accordingly. 



CHILDREN 149 



i. Linette 

Dreams op Forbidden Pleasures. Fixation upon 
THE Mother. 

(from 3 years and 9 months to 7 years.) 

First we have a series of dreams and incidents 
occurring when the child was just four. They show 
clearly the working of some of the elementary mech- 
anisms of the dream and of atf ectivity. One of the 
advantages of studying children is that these mech- 
anisms are displayed in all their simplicity. 

Linette has a passion for her black kitten, and 
nurses it all day like a doll. She used to suffer 
much from nightmares. Thanks to treatment by 
suggestion, these have become less frequent. But 
they still occur from time to time, and Linette re- 
veals them by talking in her sleep. Here is her 
commonest nightmare. 

I. Kitty is running up Mont Saleve ; it will be lost ; 
it is drowning. — This last form of the nightmare, that 
of the drowning, is the one which causes the greatest 
distress. 

The family goes on a journey, and the kitten is 
left behind. Linette is continually asking for it, 
and, notwithstanding the pleasure of new scenes, she 
would like to go home to be with her kitty once more. 
But, while she is away, a girl makes her a present 
of a tiny doll, smaller than her little finger — a nigger 



150 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

boy with sparkling eyes, seated like a child in a 
bath. Linette is so overwhelmed with delight that 
she is hardly able to stammer a word of thanks. 
Though she has brought a large doll with her, she 
now thinks of nothing but the little nigger. She no 
longer talks of her kitten. One night she wakes up 
crying out: 

II. ''My little nigger is drowned!" 

Here we have her usual nightmare, with the sub- 
stitution of the nigger boy for the kitten. The doll 
represented a small, black creature with sparkling 
eyes, one made to be cuddled. There was enough 
resemblance to facilitate a close association between 
the nigger doll and the kitten. Transference was 
complete. Even more manifest was the transfer- 
ence when, having returned home, Linette rushed 
of£ to find the kitten, and suddenly lost all interest 
in the little nigger. He had been her inseparable 
companion for a week, but now he was left lying 
for days in the bottom of the basket in which she 
had brought him home. He had merely been an un- 
derstudy, a substitute. Nevertheless she had a fond 
memory of him and wanted to write a letter of thanks 
to the donor. 

We are entitled to say that there had been a tem- 
porary displacement of affective stress from the 
kitten to the nigger doll. There is no need to in- 
voke any sort of moral repression in order to ex- 
plain this displacement. If there was anything 
analogous to a repressed feeling, it simply lay in 



CHILDREN 151 

this, that the natural object of the feeling was ab- 
sent. The case was on all fours with that of a 
feeling which undergoes derivation when its first 
object has been lost. There was no displacement 
peculiar to the dream state; displacement had oc- 
curred in the waking life, and the dream life had 
followed the lead of the waking life. 

About ten days after coming home, Linette had 
a dream which was not a nightmare. She related 
it after waking. 

Ill, A young lady had given her a doll ; but Linette 
had dropped the doll and it had broken. She was ever 
so sorry. A little farther on she had met the young 
lady who had given her the tiny nigger boy. 

I asked some simple questions, being careful that 
they should not be leading questions. 

Baudouin. What was the doll like in your dream ? 

Linette. Like my little nigger, only it was big and 
it wasn 't black. 

B. What colour was it? 

L. White. 

B. Was it sitting down like your little nigger? 

L. No, it was standing up, quite straight, like my 
Jenny, 

Here we have a quaint sort of resemblance ! One 
is reminded of the schoolboy's answer that ^^chevaV 
was derived from **equus'' by changing *^e" into 
*^che'' and *^quus" into ^^val.'* Linette goes one 



152 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

better. Her dream doll is like the nigger — save only 
that the dream doll is white, big, and upright, in- 
stead of being black, little, and seated. It should be 
noted that ** Jenny'' is the only one of her many 
dolls which is made all in one piece, so that it can 
neither cross its legs nor sit down. The little nigger 
is seated tailor fashion, which is rather fascinating. 

Linette 's answers showed that in her dream there 
had been a systematisation of contrast. The doll 
and the nigger resemble one another by contrast. 
The image of the nigger is systematically negated. 
Nevertheless the girl, the donor, who has likewise 
been temporarily effaced, reappears at the end of 
the dream. All the other details, the leading details, 
show themselves by contraries. We note, moreover, 
that the dream, thus retouched, is no longer a night- 
mare, although Linette had been *^ever so sorry." 
The feeling of distress is still there, but attenuated. 
Everything happens as if the feeling had undergone 
attenuation by displacement upon unrecognisable 
images. In like manner a hot liquid is cooled by 
pouring it from one vessel to another. Thus the 
simple instance of this child's dream gives us a 
vivid picture of what is probably one of the func- 
tions of the displacement. The latter is, as it were, 
a means of cooling the soup, which was scalding 
hot, and now becomes drinkable. Thanks to the dis- 
placement, what would have been a nightmare be- 
comes a dream which, though still disagreeable, no 
longer induces terror, or screams, or waking with a 
start. 

The matter may be reconstituted as follows. The 



CHILDREN 153 

customary nightmare, that of the kitten, was immi- 
nent, for the nigger doll no longer occupied the lead- 
ing place in the child's mind. By a first displace- 
ment, which availed itself of an antecedent mechan- 
ism (dream II), the nigger was substituted for the 
kitten; but the nigger was still too recognisable an 
image, and a second displacement led to the substi- 
tution of the white doll. 

At this period suggestions were being made to 
Linette every evening during natural sleep, the most 
important suggestion being that she would sleep 
quietly without any nightmare. Displacement was 
the means used by the suggestion to overcome the 
nightmare. 

Linette told her dream about the doll in the most 
natural way possible. Here is another dream which 
she told her mother as a great secret, almost in a 
whisper, and with obvious embarrassment. Subse- 
quently, when I asked her to tell me the dream and 
to give me some more details, she hid shamefacedly 
behind the door, and would not tell me a word. 
Here is what she told her mother. 

ly. She had a pain in her back. She was quite 
alone at the clinic and was being treated. 

A **pansexualist'* would regard the shame and 
embarrassment which accompanied the telling of this 
dream as obvious indications of a sexual dream. 
This would be jumping to conclusions. Linette 
shows exactly the same kind of embarrassment 



154 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

whenever allusion is made in her presence to one 
of her more serious offences or to the subsequent 
scoldings. This embarrassment makes her do what 
children are apt to do in such cases. She promptly 
represses the disagreeable reminiscence, and changes 
the subject. There is unquestionably shame, but 
simply moral shame. Now certain data enable me 
to give a similar interpretation to the shame attend- 
ant upon the recital of Linette's dream. 

Two or three days before the dream, her mother 
had had a pain in the back. Finding Linette rather 
troublesome, the mother had said: *^You are tiring 
me. If you are not a good girl I shall have to go 
to the hospital for my back; I shall have to send 
you away to a lodging and you'll be all alone." 
Linette was afraid that this would happen, and in 
the dream her fear found expression. There is a 
condensation of Linette left alone and her sick 
mother; Linette 's ^'lodging" and her mother's ^* hos- 
pital" are condensed into something betwixt and 
between, which is called the * * clinic. ' ' Through this 
condensation, in which she invests herself with her 
mother's illness, Linette perhaps gives expression 
to the feeling that in doing her mother harm she is 
punishing herself. Certainly the condensation is 
enough to make her upper consciousness unaware of 
the real issues ; but nevertheless she has a confused 
feeling that there is something she ought to be 
ashamed of. 

During the journey on which she had been given 
the nigger doll, Linette had had a great disappoint- 



CHILDREN 155 

ment. It was at Montreux. She had been watching 
the preparations for the national festival, which was 
to be held on the shore of the lake. She had been 
greatly impressed by the sight of the men who 
climbed ladders to hang up garlands and coloured 
glass globes. Eagerly she was looking forward to 
the festival, the fireworks, and the music. But 
heavy rain at the critical moment frustrated her 
hopes. A few months later she was with her mother 
on the shore of the lake, this time at Geneva. She 
had been playing with a stranger, a little boy. The 
children's mothers had found it necessary to inter- 
vene more than once to keep the peace. A game, 
begun in high good humour, had ended in a quarrel, 
and Linette was out of temper when she came home. 
The two disappointments were condensed in the 
following dream (4 years and 4 months). 

V. We were on the shore of the lake, where I met 
the little boy the other day. There were some white 
things like fireworks in the sky. Some men were going 
up ladders. I didn't like it, Mother, because you 
wouldn't take me to hear the music. 

We can recognise the attempt to satisfy in a 
dream a wish that has not been satisfied in real life ; 
this is why in the dream, she sees things **like fire- 
works." But the wish is incompletely fulfilled; 
maternal authority stands in the way of the enjoy- 
ment of some of the coveted pleasures (the music), 
and the feeling of disappointment persists. 

Here is another dream, built upon the same plan, 



156 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

embodying an attempt to realise a forbidden wish, 
and entailing a disappointment. 

VI. Linette breaks her English doll while she is 
washing it. 

Her mother has, in fact, often forbidden ber to 
wash ber English doll. In a dream she disobeys; 
she satisfies her wish; but the hidden thought that 
things will turn out ill persists, and the doll is 
broken. 

We have thus been able to interpret every one 
of these dreams by bringing it into relationship with 
certain wishes, fears, feelings, definite happenings. 
In each specific mstance we have been careful to 
avoid having recourse to more recondite explana- 
tions, to avoid invoking explanations which were not 
requisite to explain the specific instance under re- 
view. Here we have a methodological principle 
which we should always follow. 

This, however, does not mean that, when we have 
a series of dreams, it would be wrong to enquire 
whether they do not manifest one or more general 
trends, over and above temporary feelings. 

Linette 's dreams are less independent than might 
appear at first sight. Attention has already been 
drawn to the resemblance between V and VI. Here 
Linette is in search of pleasures forbidden by her 
mother, and the search is unsuccessful.. Affairs 
turn out ill. But more than this ; in the last dream 
(VI), the doll which Linette breaks while she is 



CHILDREN 157 

washing it recapitulates a motif we have encountered 
earlier in the series : the broken doll — the doll which 
was only a substitute for the nigger (III) ; the 
drowned nigger (II); and the drowned kitten (I). 
This suggests the idea that in the earlier dreams 
there was something masked, something more than 
the simple fear of losing the kitten she was so fond 
of. Would this fear have been sufficient to cause a 
nightmare! The juxtaposition of the various 
dreams suggests that the cat, the nigger, and the 
white doll, may be playing the same role as the 
English doll in dream VI; now the English doll rep- 
resents a pleasure forbidden hy the mother. There 
are several data to confirm the notion that the kitten 
was linked with analogous ideas. First of all 
Linette was continually messing the kitten about, 
and her mother had had to tell her sometimes to let 
the poor little beast alone. Next, Linette said one 
day: 

VII (4 years and 11 months). ^'I wish I was a 
kitten!" 

^^Whyr' 

*' Because kittens are allowed to eat between meals. 
But I should like still more to be a mother cat, because 
they make kittens. '* 

*' Kittens are allowed to eat between meals." 
Here the longing finds expression. The kitten rep- 
resents the pleasures children are forbidden to en- 
joy; for Linette, one of these pleasures is that of 
being a mother in her turn, when she will be able 
to make up for having had to submit to maternal 



158 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

authority. (We should note that when she is caress- 
ing her dolls, or fondling her kitten, which is a 
living doll, Linette is obviously playing at being a 
mother.) But in the dreams that have been re- 
corded, the search for forbidden pleasures has in- 
variably culminated in a check or a disaster. "We 
must realise that this search involves something 
more than childish disobedience. The forbidden 
pleasures include life itself; the life of grown-ups 
with all its mysteries ; the life forbidden to children, 
the mysteries of which they may not talk and which 
arouse a vague sense of fear. The significance of 
the allusion to the mother cat which ^^ makes kittens" 
is unmistakable. 

We shall get a stage farther on if we consider the 
circumstances in which the dream of the kitten had 
occurred for the first time. Linette 's mother was 
separated from the father. The girl had known 
little of her father, and that little had not been 
agreeable. When Linette was 3 years and 9 months 
old her mother had moved house; they quitted a 
room where Linette and her mother had lived alone 
together in close intimacy since leaving the father. 
For Linette, this house-moving was a departure 
into the unknown, a step towards the mysterious and 
forbidden reality of life. It was just at this time 
that Linette was given the kitten. A further new 
element in her life was that she now had a bedroom 
of her own. The kitten naturally became associated 
in her mind with the new house and the new life. 



CHILDREN 159 

To Linette this new life was something on a larger 
scale than the old life had been, for her mother was 
no longer the only figure on her horizon. 

Now, however, came the usnal conflict between the 
progressive tendency, leading out towards life, 
towards the unknown and the forbidden, and the 
regressive tendency fixed upon the mother. The ab- 
sence of the father, and the very close intimacy with 
the mother (since mother and child had rarely been 
separated for even as long as a few hours), had con- 
tributed to make Linette 's fixation upon the mother 
very strong. 

On waking after the first night in the new dwell- 
ing, Linette had some dreams to tell. 

VIIL She had been dreaming **all night." The 
moon was shining brightly and they were in the old 
house. She was looking at the moon. Mother was 
there. Then they both went to bed, and in the morn- 
ing they got up. 

She had dreamed, too, that she had lost all her 
things during the move. 

She had also dreamed that her kitten had run away. 

The dreams give definite expression to the regres- 
sive tendency. Linette goes back to the * * old house ' ' 
so that mother can be there and the two can sleep 
together all night. The kitten, which symbolises 
the progressive tendency, '^runs away." The loss 
of the kitten is annoying, but the image of the old 
house is pleasurable. There is a conflict between 
the two tendencies. Linette is quite upset by the 



160 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

move; she hardly knows where she is; she *' loses all 
her things/' 

We are now led to suspect that the same conflict 
is betrayed by the dreams previously quoted, all of 
which were subsequent to number VIII. If, in these 
dreams, the wish for the forbidden pleasure, the 
wish to escape from the mother leads to mischief, 
this is because it is counterchecked by an opposite 
wish, by the wish to remain tied to her mother. 
Here, as elsewhere, distress shows itself as the out- 
come of a conflict. 

It is necessary to point out that dreams and fan- 
tasies of immersion have often been interpreted as 
expressions of the regressive tendency and of a 
flight from life. Some even go so far as to see in 
these dreams and fantasies the definite image of a 
subconscious wish to return to the mother's womb, 
and the collective symbol has been supposed to ex- 
plain a number of myths and rites.^ I cannot insist 
too often that it is always hazardous to invoke the 
symbolism of the *' collective unconscious" as a di- 
rect interpretation of an individual dream. Still, 
when an individual analysis leads us to an inter- 
pretation which squares with that of the collective 
symbolism, the fact is interesting. I may note, 
then, that in Linette's case the dreams of drown- 
ing (the drowning of the kitten, or the drowning 
of the little nigger) seem to me to be expressions 
of a regressive tendency and of fixation upon the 
mother. 

1 Especially the rite of baptism or rebirth. Cf . Morel, L'intro- 
version mystique, 1918, p. 54. 



CHILDREN 161 

In certain dreams subsequent to those we have 
been analysing, these relationships were confirmed. 

IX (5 years and 2 months). Linette dreams that 
the cat brings the doll into her bed. The cat carries 
the doll in its mouth. 

This shows once more the close and firm associa- 
tion between the doll and the cat. 

The next dream is more interesting. In it Linette 
is substituted for the cat, for in all these dreams she 
is herself in reality the central figure. Here again, 
after the lapse of eighteen months, we find the rela- 
tionship which was shown on the night after the 
house-moving (VIII), the relationship between the 
drowning dream and what I shall call the derelict 
dream (she loses all her things, loses her way). 
Moreover, in the other dreams the kitten has some- 
times been lost and sometimes been drowned. 

X (5 years and 3 months) . She dreams every night 
that she goes for a walk and loses her way. She is in 
the streets of the town ; there are a great many people. 
But everyone thinks that she is shopping, and no one 
takes any notice of her. 

She also dreams that she is on the shore of the lake, 
at the place where a man has been drowned. Mist is 
rising from the lake. *' What does it feel like when one 
is drowning? Does one come to pieces?" 

She also dreams that she herself is drowning. 

Now that we are aware of this relationship, we 
shall class other *^ derelict'' dreams in the same 
group. 



162 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

XI (5 years and 3 months). She was quite alone in 
the town. First of all a bicycle nearly ran over her, 
and then she really was run over by a motor car. 

Is it not pathetic to find in a little girl the initia- 
tion of the tragedy which psychoanalysis has so 
often revealed in adults who have experienced sim- 
ilar conditions in childhood. In Linette's case, as 
in so many others, the loss of the father and the 
intense fixation upon the mother are the predomi- 
nant causes. 

At this date the derelict dream undergoes a modi- 
fication. Linette loses her way and then some one 
takes care of her. The person who takes care of 
her is usually a g-irl, and this marks the opening 
of a period when she had violent and fleeting pas- 
sions for girls or young women. Less often, the 
person who takes care of her in the dream is a man. 

XII (5 years and 3 months). She dreams that her 
mother is boarding her out in a market-place. In the 
market she cannot find what she wants ; there are only 
red and crimson stuffs ; there is no lace. There was a 
wooden staircase at the end of the market, and a young 
girl in blue made her a cup of chocolate. 

The wooden staircase comes from a house where 
there lives a young woman for whom she had one 
of her brief passions, but whom she had ceased to 
care for; the girl in blue is like a lady who paid a 
visit a few days earlier, and who had at once made 
a conquest of Linette. 



CHILDREN 163 

XIII (5 years and 4 months). She has been sent 
out on to the staircase. On the staircase she meets a 
girl, whom she asks to take care of her. 

She was drowning; the girl waded into the water 
and fished her out. 

Once more we have the relationship between the 
derelict dream and the drowning dream. 

XIV (5 years and 4 months). She was on a road. 
She was picking grasses. There was a man there who 
was running after the sun. She had lost her way. A 
man took care of her, took her to his house, and pol- 
ished her sabots before bringing her home. 

Through the same dream passes the figure of a 
neighbour's child, a little boy in whom Linette has 
been much interested for several days. He was badly 
behaved, used nasty words, and made rude gestures, 
so that her mother had to send him away. 

At the date of these three dreams, Linette 's feel- 
ings were manifesting an outward impulsion (the 
progressive tendency). As usually happens in the 
case of a little girl who has a strong fixation upon 
the mother, her affections, despite a few vacillations, 
are mainly concentrated upon persons of her own 
sex who are considerably older than herself. She 
does not usually get on very well with children of 
her own age ; moreover, she has few child acquaint- 
ances. 

Before this blossoming when she was five years 
old, Linette (notwithstanding such fantasies as VII, 



164 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

tlie one of the motlier cat who makes kittens) found 
the idea of marriage repugnant as far as she her- 
self was concerned. She got quite annoyed if any- 
one talked to her about it. 

When she was three years and ten months 
old, she had the following conversation with her 
mother. 

XV. Linette. Will you give me this teapot? 

Mother. When you get married. 

L. I won't get married. 

M. What do you know about getting married? 

L. (suddenly overcome with shame buries her head 
in her arms and then hides head and arms in her 
mother's lap). I won't tell you. 

M. Very well. You needn't get married. You^re 
quite right. Husbands are horrid. 

L. Yes, they're as horrid as the teapot. 

M. Why is the teapot horrid ? 

L. Because it burns. 

A few pages back we rejected the hypothesis of 
sexual shame when a simple moral shame seemed an 
adequate explanation. But in the shame which 
Linette showed when she spoke of marriage there 
would seem to have been a sexual element. It is 
foolish to feel horrified at such a notion. Of course 
a child does not really know what marriage means. 
Nevertheless in the subconscious there is a phe- 
nomenon which at first we are loth to recognise, but 
to which psychoanalysis continually brings us back. 
A confused form of sexuality (it would be better, 
perhaps, if we had some other name for it) is present 



CHILDREN 165 

in the subconscious long before puberty, and indeed 
from tbe very earliest years. What may we sup- 
pose to have been the incidents that awakened in 
Linette's case the sexual shame she exhibited at the 
age of three years and ten months 1 They may have 
been impressions of fear and disgust connected with 
the memory of her father, with the memory of cer- 
tain actions and certain words. Whatever the cause, 
the shame existed, and was attended by a categorical 
refusal of marriage. This refusal had a strong emo- 
tional basis, for the child became quite angry when- 
ever the matter was pressed. The way in which she 
buried her head in her mother's lap at the moment 
when she was giving expression to her sense of 
shame, was another manifestation of the mechanism 
previously described. On the one hand there was 
the dread of the progressive tendency, of the ten- 
dency towards the unknown and the forbidden; on 
the other hand, and simultaneously, there was the 
regressive tendency, the flight towards the mother's 
womb. 

Psychoanalysis shows that in adults the progres- 
sive and extrovertive tendency includes within it 
the sexual tendency; that the fear of life and of 
extroversion includes within it the fear of sexuality, 
or the disgust inspired by sexuality. Now all these 
psychological elements exist in embryo in the child; 
and the embryonic elements have the same mutual 
relationships as the fully developed elements in the 
adult. 

After the conversation last quoted, Linette had a 
nightmare. Awaking with a start, she screamed": 



166 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

XVI (3 years and 10 months). ** There's a toad on 
my bed!" 

A week later, just as she was going to sleep, she 
twisted the corner of the sheet into a point and 
said: 

''Look at the little pointed animal which is climbing 
up after me. ' ' 

''What do you call your little animal?" 
"A toad." 

In the dreams of adults we know that dreams of 
sticky beasts and pointed things must usually be 
interpreted as symbols of the sexual organs. The 
condensation of the sticky animal and the pointed 
object into a single image is still more significant. 
All these things belong to the *' collective uncon- 
scious.'' Such examples as the foregoing (for it 
is not an isolated incident) would seem to force upon 
us the recognition that, in children, budding sexu- 
ality expresses itself by the same images, long before 
these images can have been the outcome of any per- 
sonal experience. These considerations lead us to 
infer that there are genuinely innate associations 
and condensations. The theory of the inheritance 
of associations held by the associationist evolution- 
ists, and by Darwin himself, apropos of the acquire- 
ment of instincts, would appear to receive from such 
phenomena a confirmation which the psychological 
study of instinct per se has failed to furnish.^ For 

^ Cf. the discussion of this theory in Claparede's book, L'asso- 
ciation des idees, p. 390. 



CHILDREN 167 

the psychology of instinct is concerned only with 
motor mechanisms, and merely assumes the exist- 
ence of associations of images behind these mechan- 
isms. Psychoanalysis, on the other hand, directly 
studies such associations. 

We shall not here go more deeply into this matter. 
Suffice it to record without comment a number of 
Linette's dreams subsequent in date to XVI, and 
showing images of the same character. 

XVII. a. One morning, a few minutes after wak- 
ing, she said: '* There is a worm on my counterpane.'' 

h. Waking with a start, she said: *'An animal tried 
to eat me; it was a flat dog without any legs; it 
crawled. ' ' 

c. Waking with a start, she cried: *^ There is a man 
in my bed ! ' ' Then she explained : * * There was a man 
in my bed, and I had to give him some cake.'' 

d. The fairy Carabosse had made her eat slugs and 
worms; the fairy was sometimes flat and sometimes 
large. 

e. It was at home. They heard the wolf come up- 
stairs and knock at the door. **We shut all the doors 
tight. But the wolf had with him another animal, 
grey like pussy, but long and flat. The wolf's animal 
got in, no one knew how. Outside, the wolf growled 
and went on talking. The wolf's animal bit my hand, 
in the place where I pricked myself with a needle in 
that other dream, and a worm came out of the prick. 
I cried when the animal bit me." — ^When the wolf 
first came, it was small ; but when it was at the door, 
it was big. Sometimes it was little and sometimes it 
was big. 

/. (This dream ended with a scream.) She dreamed 



168 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

of two caterpillars, but there was only one caterpillar. 
First of all there was a black caterpillar which she 
had believed to be dead, but which had crawled over 
her stomach. Then it was a blue caterpillar, larger 
than the black one. Afterwards it was the black one 
again. 

These dreams, which took place between the ages 
of four and six, were all attended by feelings of more 
or less intense distress. They were contemporary 
with the vigorous progressive and extrovertive im- 
pulsion which was previously mentioned (XII to 
XIV). The idea of marriage, which had been so 
repugnant, had at length been accepted. When she 
was five and a half years old, Linette became en- 
gaged to a boy of fifteen. This was a new infatua- 
tion. Apropos she said: 

Wouldn't it be horrid if my husband were to die 
before we are married. I know I should kill myself. 

She got the following answer: 

Your husband doesn't care much about you. 

Linette rejoined: 

You don't know how fond we are of one another. 

This passion, like the others, was fleeting. It was 
succeeded by fresh loves, for members of her own 
sex this time, and equally transient. Linette 's af- 
fections are strong but inconstant, and doubtless the 
fixation upon the mother is the main cause of the 



CHILDREN 169 

inconstancy. Her feeling is trying to break away 
from the mother, but finds great difficulty in under- 
going fixation upon anyone else. She ^4oses all her 
things'* in this * ^ house-moving. ' * As had hap- 
pened in her acquaintance with the little boy on the 
shore of the lake (V), Linette's passions speedily 
culminate in disappointment. Although the pro- 
gressive tendency has manifested itself more and 
more strongly during the last two years, the con- 
flict between the two tendencies persists, and this 
is the probable explanation of the intermittent reap- 
pearance of the distressing dreams. 

Linette is still rather unsociable, at any rate as 
far as other children are concerned. She always 
gets on better with persons considerably older than 
herself. This character trait has been accentuated 
by the fact that she has been brought up at home, 
without much contact with other children. 

A few months at a day-school have only involved 
her in quarrels and irritation. Her relations with 
other children have for the most part been unhappy. 

When she was nearly seven, Linette learned her 
first piece of poetry. This is what she chose from 
among a number of poems : 

THE YOUNG MOUSE 

A mouse, young and pretty, 

Leaves its hole quietly. 

It had left its mother. 

Its curiosity was sparkling 

In its eyes greedy for new sights : 



170 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

*'0h, Jiow I long to have 

'* Traversed these hills and valleys! 

* ' I shall walk in these alleys. 

''Had I listened to my parents, 

'*! should have spent the rest of my days 

*'In their sequestered nest. 

**But at last I have made my way out, 

''To roam at will like the winds. 

"I can go wherever I please. 

"Wasn't it stupid of me 

"To pass all my time like that? 

"But I'm more than fifteen days old now, 

"And they want to keep me caged up 

"As if I were still a mouseling. 

"7/ / jump about at all, 

''At once comes a rough voice 

** Crying loudly, 'You're going too fast!' 

"And then this, and then that: 

" 'Stay beside me, don't go there.' 

"My mother hasn't much pluck. 

"That's quite natural at her age, 

"But at mine it's very different." 

Just as our little mouse finished this monologue, 

It was suddenly pounced upon 

By a tom-cat which crunched it up 

Without saying with your leave or by your leave. 

You, child, reading this story. 

Think the matter over again and again: 

There's a moral in it! 

It is obvious why this tale charmed Linette, for 
it is a record of the drama which, had been played 
so vividly in her own mental development since the 
age of four. We have the ill-starred attempt to 



CHILDREN 171 

break away from tlie mother and to follow tlie call 
from without, an attempt swiftly succeeded by 
retribution. Even the image of the cat, which since 
the house-moving had symbolised for Linette the 
progressive tendency and its dangers, appeared in 
the fable as it had appeared in her own childish 
dreams. When Linette recited these verses, her 
eyes sparkled with emotion. Without fully realis- 
ing it, she recognised herself as heroine of the tale. 
This was doubtless her first artistic impression; for 
what is a work of art if it be not a ready-made sym- 
bol, one which thrills us as soon as it impinges, all 
unawares, upon a drama of our subconscious life ? 

2. Mireille 

Fixation upon the Mothek. Eefusal of the 
Feminine Role. 

(7 years and 6 months.) 

Mireille, like Linette, was brought up in close com- 
panionship with her mother, her father being away. 
Fixation upon the mother is conspicuous. As often 
happens in such cases, Mireille likes to play the 
masculine role; she has a trapeze in the flat, and 
uses it a great deal. She hates dolls. She likes to 
wear knickerbockers, and makes a fuss if she has 
to put on a frock. 

In Mireille, as in Linette, we can note the conflict 
between the progressive tendency and the regressive. 
Mireille shrinks from the idea of growing up. She 



172 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

is in the class of the *^ middle'' pupils. One even- 
ing her mother had a talk with her as to whether, 
after the holidays, she was to go into the class of the 
'^big'' pupils. Mireille said that she wanted to stay 
always among the middle pupils because of the big 
boys. She is always rather afraid of big boys. 
After this talk she had a dream. 

I. All the middle pupils are out for a walk with the 
mistress. They reach a square. Suddenly a trap- 
door opens in the ground, and there is seen a very 
steep ladder which they have to go down. Most of the 
children, including Mireille, are afraid to go down. 
Only Armand and Madeleine begin to go down the 
rungs. 

Armand is rather a saucy lad, and Madeleine is 
near the head of the class. Commenting on this 
dream, the mother says that Mireille often expresses 
a wish that she could stay young all her life, so that 
she could always be with her mother. 

The relationship between the fear of going for- 
ward, and fixation upon the mother, is evident. It 
may surprise the reader that in the dream the bold 
deed should be symbolised by a descent into the 
earth. Let us, however, recall Linette's dreams, in 
which boldness ends in drowning or some other mis- 
hap. The boldness is here inseparable from the 
danger. The dream is the outcome of the conflict 
between the progressive tendency and the regressive, 
and the two tendencies coalesce into a single image. 

The following is what Mireille calls ^*a nice 
dream"; 



CHILDREN 173 

II. The whole family was out walking on the bank 
of the Arve. There were some very funny people 
who were half alive and half statues. They did not 
move. Mireille slid down a balustrade to the edge of 
the river, and suddenly she came down with a bump 
on to the stones. There she was, down below, with 
the rest of the family above ; then it was the other way 
about, she was up above, but she was not frightened. 
At length she found herself above, alone with her 
mother, and they picked flowers together. 

The mother's comment on this dream is brief but 
interesting. ''Sometimes I go for a walk along the 
Arve with Mireille. If the whole family is there, 
Mireille is apt to lag a little behind, looking about, 
picking flowers, or collecting insects. But if I am 
out with her alone, she always stays close to me. 
I fancy she prefers these walks when none of the 
others are there; I suppose she is a little jeal- 
ous." 

Evidently the ''nice" part of the dream is the last 
stage, when she is alone with her mother. Before 
that there has been (as in the case of Linette), a 
mishap as the sequel of a bold action. As to the 
significance of the animated statues, some associa- 
tions would be useful. Still, having made other 
analyses, we can tentatively discern their signifi- 
cance. A being which was half a statue and half 
alive could very well symbolise the conflict of the 
two tendencies, the "statue" representing an un- 
progressive creature, one which does not grow up, 
whereas the "animated" component represents the 
progressive tendency. But whatever we may think 



174. STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

of the significance of these ^* people who are half 
alive and half statues/' the general bearing of the 
dream is unmistakable . 

Now we come to immersion dreams akin to those 
of Linette 's dreams which have the same motif. 

III. Mireille is in a field with two little boys. They 
are all riding on merry-go-round horses. They have 
to jump across a stream. The two boys jump first, 
and reach the other side safely; then she tries to fol- 
low, but tumbles into the stream. Now the ground 
opens, and she slides down a chimney into the kitchen 
of a lovely house. There are some awfully nice people 
there, and they give her something to eat. Meanwhile 
the two little boys have been hunting for her. They 
come in and tell her about it. Then they all say good- 
bye. 

Here we have a reminiscence of a fairy tale which 
Mireille had read, and in which the ground opened 
in this way beneath a little girl. The girl in the 
story had reached an old woman's house, and had 
been very well treated there. In the dream, Mireille 
had only been frightened to begin with. As soon as 
she reached the bottom of the chimney, the kindness 
of the people there had put her quite at ease. 

IV. A cafe close to a wood. Mireille goes into the 
wood by herself, and suddenly gets bogged. She cries 
out in a fright. Her mother comes and says: ^' Never 
mind, I will wash you.^' Then Henry [her eldest 
brother] comes. He gets bogged too, but Mireille is 
deeper in the bog than Henry. Still, they are not 
frightened. 



CHILDREN 175 

Nevertlieless, she says that this dream was ** rather 
nasty." 

In conjunction with these immersion dreams, let 
us consider a suffocation dream which she had 
shortly after the death of one of her schoolmates. 

V. Mireille is lying at full length in her bed. She 
feels stifled, just as she had felt on the day when she 
had run about too much. Her mother is there, and 
feels her arms, her feet and her head. Then the 
mother says: "She is dead; this time she is really 
dead." Mireille cannot move. 

She says that this dream is *^ rather nasty, hut not 
so had." 

These three dreams (III, TV, and V) are all built 
up on the same frame-work — one similar to that 
which underlay Linette's dreams. 

First stage, A progressive action, characterised 
by life, enjoyment, and boldness. *'She jumps with 
two boys" (III). — ^^She goes alone into the wood" 
which is close to a cafe (IV). (The symbol of the 
cafe will recur.) — **As on the day when she had run 
about too much" (V). 

Second stage. The bold act encounters a check, 
and there is danger of death. *^She falls into the 
stream while jumping across it" (III); **she gets 
bogged" (IV); ^^she feels stifled as she had felt 
after running about too much; she is dead" (V). 
In IV and V, the mother turns up at the critical 
moment. In III, we may assume that the kindly 
hosts symbolise the mother. The motif of III would 



176 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

make most psydioanalysts class it among the col- 
lective fantasies of ** return to the mother's womb." 
Here, again (if we assimilate the kindly hosts, to 
the mother in the two other dreams), this general- 
ised interpretation seems to square with the indi- 
vidual case. Let us note the fact once more, with- 
out attempting a more ambitious commentary. 

In the following dream we find once again the 
* ^ cafe ' ' and the * ' wood ' ' of dream IV. There is now 
a blossoming, not quite free from discomfort, of 
the progressive tendency. Exit mother, enter 
Prince Charming. 

VI. They were all together in a cafe. It was an 
ugly place. Huge joints of meat were hanging all 
round the walls as in a butcher's shop. Mireille went 
out into the garden. All at once a man and a woman 
tried to catch her. Her mother had run away without 
saying a word. Mireille ran away from them, doubling 
like a hare. She was very much surprised that her 
mother had left her, hut at the same time she was glad 
that she was able to run a little. She was almost out 
of breath when an officer came into the garden and 
said: ^*Come along, we'll escape together." He ran 
with her into a wood close by. He took her hand ; she 
ran beside him ; when there was anything in the way, 
he lifted her over. 

Although distressed at being abandoned, Mireille 
was at the same time glad because she had escaped 
from her mother and because she was *^able to run 
a little." 



CHILDREN 177 

This dream of the officer introduces us to a new- 
series of dreams, in which no analyst can fail to see 
tentative manifestations of infantile sexuality, and 
in which, moreover, there reappear some of the 
symbols we encountered in Linette's dreams (the 
toad, sticky things, the wolf). In Mireille, these 
symbols are linked, furthermore, with that of '* flesh" 
(butcher's meat in IV, and ham in VII). The **ham 
boarding-school'' of the dream next to be recorded 
is obviously akin to the "cafe butcher's shop" of VI, 
and this in its turn is linked with the cafe of IV. 
There are close ties between all these images, and 
they elucidate one another. 

VII. It was a funny sort of boarding-school where 
there was never anything to eat except ham. There 
were huge slices of ham at every meal, nothing else; 
no fruit, no vegetables, nothing. 

We had better explain that Mireille 's imagination 
has created this boarding-school as a contrast to a 
vegetarian boarding-school she had recently heard of. 

VII (continued). The bell rang for dinner. Every- 
one came in; there were some young men. We sat 
down, and on everyone's plate was an enormous slice 
of ham with a tiny piece of bread. I said: **I can't 
eat." Then a gentleman who was quite close to me 
said: ''Here's some bread-and-butter for you"; and 
he gave me a slice of bread. Then I could eat. 

We went out for a walk, all schoolfellows together. 
We came to a field where there was a little toad of the 
colour of a green ham, greyish pink, which stood up- 
right like a man and was digging. It ran after us 



178 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

and attacked me. It was not very nice, but I didn't 
mind much. 

The mother notes that during a recent walk in a 
wood (a fresh tie with the cafe near the wood in 
dreams IV and VI) they had seen a huge toad which 
had made a strong impression on Mireille. But, 
sketching an analysis of this dream, she laid espe- 
cial stress upon the **young men" who joined the 
rest at dinner: *^ During the time when we had to 
live in a boarding-house, it was always the young 
men whom Mireille was most afraid of. If one of 
them ventured to look at her or to smile at her, she 
would burst into tears. Sometimes I had to take 
her away from table." 

VIII. In class, Mireille was asked to look for a cube 
in the cupboard. At last she found some white of egg 
in the form of a cube : a whitish mass, transparent, a 
little sticky. She took it in her hand. There were 
some other children ; the white of egg was hidden and 
they found it. Then it was Mireille 's turn to find it 
once more. But directly she touched it, the mass 
began to flow over her, and the more she tried to get 
rid of it the more she was covered by it. Some other 
children and some gentlemen came to help her, but the 
stuff immediately covered them too, and all at once 
Mireille found herself floating in the air with the 
others. She had to hold them all up. Suddenly they 
broke away to get back to the ground, and Mireille 
was left alone with a gentleman upon a roof. It was 
nice and nasty at the same time. 

The mother, attempting an analysis and supple- 
menting her remark concerning dream VII, said: 



CHILDREN 179 

**If gentlemen come to call on us, she likes to re- 
main unnoticed. One of our visitors, regardless of 
her feelings, endeavoured to caress her. She showed 
extreme repugnance, and I suppose that is why she 
has these dreams in which gentlemen figure." 

The refusal of proffered caresses was certainly 
not due to the pride of a child unwilling to be treated 
as a child. First of all this would not explain the 
*' extreme repugnance"; and secondly it is not in 
conformity with Mireille's wish to remain a child, 
with her dislike of the idea of growing up. Mani- 
festly what she refuses is to be treated as a woman. 
This conception harmonises with Mireille 's fondness 
for the masculine role, which is related to the fixa- 
tion upon the mother. In one of our adult subjects 
we shall find a pathological hypertrophy of the 
refusal of femininity linked to a fixation upon the 
mother.^ 

The following dream is linked to dream VI by the 
images of '^chasing" and of ^*a wood." 

IX. Mireille sometimes dreams of a wolf which 
chases her in a wood. Sometimes the wolf howls. 
Sometimes the wolf jumps on her. She runs away, 
turning round and round as she runs. 

The mother records an observation of Mireille 's 
regarding this dream. 

^ The ease of Renee. — In Renee's ease the refusal of femininity 
was aceompanied by a refusal of maternity. In this conneetion 
a saying of Mireille's may be recorded : "I don't want to have any 
children, it gives you such a tummy ache." 



180 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

''As soon as the wolf has jumped on me, I am not 
so frightened. It's like going to the dentist. I'm 
afraid on the way, but it gets better directly he begins. ' ' 

I will conclude this series of dreams tinged with 
latent sexuality by relating one of an ** explosion. " 
The *' piece of soap" which is the starting point 
instantly reminds us of the *^cube" in dream VIII. 

X. *'A horrid dream!'* She is holding a piece of 
soap in her hands. Suddenly the piece of soap be- 
comes much bigger and explodes. Then there is a 
lamp on the table. It is made of two halls, between 
which is the hamdle to hold it by. Mireille says to 
herself; ''It's going to blow up, and I shall take it." 
Suddenly the two balls swell up and pinch Mireille 's 
hand; it hurts her a good deal. She turns and looks 
at the bed. Her mother is lying there with a head 
that has grown quite small and is all in holes. 

In this dream we have a further blossoming of 
the progressive tendency, and the mother is corre- 
spondingly shrunken. But Mireille says that it is 
' * a very sad dream. ' ' She is inclined to blame her- 
self: **The explosion came because I touched the 
soap and the lamp too much." Forbidden fruit! 
As in Linette's case, we see simultaneous manifes- 
tations of the wish for the forbidden fruit and of 
the fear of it; ''It's going to blow up, and I shall 
take it." The framework is the same as that of 
dreams III, IV, and V: a bold action followed by 
disaster, a dangerous attempt to break away from 
the mother and to push out into life. 



CHILDREN 181 

3, Robert 

A Schoolboy's Feelings about School. Intro- 
vERSioN. Analysis of a School Essay. 

(aged 12 years.) 

Eobert exhibits certain traits of a nascent intro- 
version. A studious lad, lie is mistrustful and 
rather shy, thriftily inclined and even miserly. He 
blushes readily and has fits of timidity, in these 
respects resembling his elder brother; but in the 
latter, introversion, timidity, embarrassment which 
is sometimes ludicrous, and maladaptation to social 
life, are much more marked, and arouse definite dis- 
quietude. In Robert, the traits are in the initial 
stage. The observer feels that he is of the same 
type as his brother, and that a push would make him 
develop in the same direction. 

Writing a French essay of which the subject had 
been given out as *^The History of a Five-Franc 
Piece," Robert relates unawares his own history. 
He begins as follows : 

After spending a long time in a damp cellar, I was 
taken out by a bearded man with a long nose and high 
cheekbones. He looked at me in a way which I did 
not like ; after a time I understood what was happen- 
ing to me. He was a policeman who had discovered 
a gang of coiners, who were making five-franc pieces 
with only 50 per cent, of silver in them instead of 90 
per cent. 

The analysis of this opening passage is incom- 
plete, but the interpretation of some of the details 



182 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

is plain enough. The bearded man with high cheek- 
bones is a portrait of Eobert's father. The **damp 
cellar" must be classed among the fantasies of a 
return to the mother's womb. Moreover, in the 
analysis of the next passage from the essay, it be- 
comes plain that at the end of this episode the 
** bearded man" takes the boy (the piece of money) 
in order to send him to school. Thus in the episode 
of the coiners we may presume that there is a refer- 
ence to a frequent experience in real life, when 
paternal severity is contrasted with maternal in- 
dulgence. It is interesting to compare Robert's 
case with that of another of my subjects (Eoger, 
reminiscence VI), where a similar complex is ex- 
pressed by the image of a '^fraudulent bankruptcy." 
The detail of the ' ' 50 per cent, of silver in the coins 
instead of 90 per cent." points to the tie between 
Robert's mercenary character, on the one hand, and 
his introversion and his protest against his father, 
on the other. The basis of his youthful avarice 
would seem to be the conjoined wish to rob his father 
and to escape from his father. Such sentiments are 
quite common. Let us continue the essay: 

They took me, then, and immediately carried me off 
to the mint with a multitude of other coins. My suf- 
ferings here were indescribable. Sometimes I was be- 
ing stamped, sometimes I was in the furnace or being 
handled by all sorts of machines whose use I did not 
understand. If I remember aright it was when I was 
in one of these machines that an old man with a stoop 
nearly got his fingers burned by touching me. We 
had no time to talk to one another. 



CHILDREN 183 

The old man with a stoop is a faithful portrait 
of Robert's schoolmaster during his last year at 
the primary school. This man was well known for 
his strictness and his rough ways. It is plain, there- 
fore, that the mint where the coin suffers so much 
is the school. ^*A11 sorts of machines whose use I 
did not understand'' represent the torments the 
pupils had to suffer in this ^^mint," where a coin 
was not even allowed ^^to talk" to the ** multitude 
of other coins." This is a heartfelt cry! Robert 
was diligent, and to outward seeming he was quite 
pleased with his lot at school. In his essay, how- 
ever, the real reaction of his inner self finds expres- 
sion. He naively passes judgment upon the time- 
honoured educational methods, and makes use of 
images which educational reformers cannot but find 
inspiring and delightful. A definite and amusing 
detail is that of the old man's burning his fingers 
when torturing the coin. The schoolmaster still had 
a way of hitting the pupils' fingers with a ruler, al- 
though the practice was discountenanced. It is 
likely enough that, as often happens during this sort 
of amusement, the master had sometimes hit his 
own fingers by mistake. Figuratively, at any rate, 
he had burned his fingers, for the parents of some 
of the pupils had lodged a complaint, and the school 
committee had formally forbidden him to use his 
ruler in such a way. But we may pass to a more 
genial atmosphere: 

At length, after a few days, I was placed with a 
dozen of my companions in a comfortable boxj stiU, 



184 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

we should have liked to have a little more room for our 
elbows. 

This * ^ comfortable box" is the ^*New School,'' to 
which Eobert was sent on leaving the primary 
school. He really likes the place. Instead of the 
'* multitude," his class has now only a dozen mem- 
bers. But he has reached the age when boys begin to 
feel the need for ' * elbow room, ' ' and when they find 
any kind of authority somewhat restricting. The 
feeling of constraint is normal to adolescence, and 
we shall see that another of our youthful subjects 
(Raoul) gives expression to it by a similar image. 

A little farther on, we come to a sentimental in- 
termezzo : 

Now, owing to a railway collision, I fell with only 
one of my companions into the grass of an orchard; 
at once I struck up a friendship with her, for we were 
both of us very unhappy. We stayed there several 
weeks and we began to get tarnished by the rain. 
But what we found quite amusing was when we were 
able to watch the lizards basking in the sun ; the frogs 
were hopping gaily, and once one of them hopped 
on to my companion. One fine spring day, quite early 
in the morning, I suddenly saw a man who was armed 
with a great steel blade and seemed quite likely to cut 
our throats. 

The ** orchard" is a reminiscence of a real orchard 
where Robert had been during the holidays, and 
where he had played with some little girls. It is 
noteworthy to find here, apropos of an idyll of child- 
hood, the customary images of * Wizards" and 



CHILDREN 185 

''frogs." We have already referred to this topic 
in connection with the *' toads" of Linette (XVI) 
and Mireille (VII). We should also note the feeling 
of fear (the man with the scythe) which is asso- 
ciated with these first steps towards the unknown 
in life. 

After a while, the coin finds it way into the hands 
of a grocer: 

The grocer said to his wife: "Add that to your sav- 
ings.''— ''Savings? What for r'—*' You don't know 
yet. Perhaps we'll go for a jolly motor-boat excur- 
sion ; then we shall need the money. ' ' 

Saved up in this way, I was kept for about a fort- 
night in a dark and dirty comer; often, during the 
night, there were rats prowling all around me. 

The motor-boat excursion is the expression of one 
of Eobert's most ardent wishes, to which his par- 
ents have not yet seen their way to accede. The 
dark and dirty corner where the rats prowl is a 
reminiscence of a story he has read in which some 
people have been buried alive. It also reminds us 
of the damp cellar in the first sentence of the essay. 
As a whole, therefore, this fantasy is of the same 
type as those which we have come across several 
times in Linette and Mireille. A progressive wish 
wljich remains unfulfilled is succeeded by a regres- 
sion towards burial (akin to immersion). The same 
motif undergoes further development and dramati- 
sation in the sequel, when wish passes into action 
and culminates in disaster : 



186 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

The excursion in a splendid motor-boat began. 
Towards midday, when the grocer was leaning over the 
edge to admire himself in the water, I suddenly fell 
head first into the water. By good luck when I found 
myself at the bottom I was upon a rock and not upon 
muddy slime. I stayed there a long time. There was 
a long spell of dry weather, and the water got so low 
that I came to the surface. I found myself lying be- 
side a bone which must, I think, have been that of 
one of the lake-dwellers. Some men were busily search- 
ing amid this lacustrine debris, and the only reason 
why they did not see me was that I was of almost the 
same colour as the yellow sand. 

Here we have an admirable example of the fan- 
tasy, so common in the introvert, of the immersion 
of some valuable object (the Rhine gold). No detail 
is lacking. We have the image of Narcissus * lean- 
ing over the edge to admire himself in the water ; ' ' 
and we even have an *^ archaic ^^ element in the form 
of a lake-dweller's bone. In Robert this five-franc 
piece which has fallen into the water gives expres- 
sion once more to the association of avarice with 
introversion. The drama secures its completion, its 
denouement, when ^^ a lady'' finds the coin and re- 
stores it to life. 

4. Jean 

Peotest against the Father. 
Analysis of a School Essay. 

(aged 12 years.) 

Jean exhibited to a very high degree the common 
complex of attachment to the mother and protest 



CHILDREN 187 

against the father. The fact that his parents did 
not get on very well with one another had made 
matters worse. Sometimes in his dreams he killed 
his father. In waking life he was devoted to his 
mother, and his pet name for her was *^ma par- 
f umee. ' ' 

The pupils were told to write an essay upon a 
subject of their own choosing. Jean^s was entitled 
**An Execution," and in it he was able to give cir- 
cumlocutory expression to his complex. The scene 
was placed in his native city. In the great square 
there was a parade of the symbols of paternal 
authority : 

A herald riding a white charger is traversing the 
streets of the town; lie sounds his horn, and all eyes 
follow the representative of the law. 

The herald announces that **the authorities of the 
town have sentenced to death a certain Henry- 
Arthur Fourrier [note the hyphenated Christian 
names — ''Jean'' likes to write his own name in this 
way], for ''having attempted to assassinate Mon- 
seigneur le Due." This " Monseigneur " may be 
taken to represent Jean's own father, whom Jean 
kills in his dreams. 

The mother is not forgotten: 

All at once a heartrending voice rose from the crowd, 
accompanied by sobs : ' ' My son, my little Henry whom 
I love so dearly, what have you done?" And the 
poor woman, driven almost mad, began to scream. 



188 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

Next comes a detail which has little to do with 
the subject's conscious mind, and which the master, 
correcting the essay from a literary point of view, 
naturally marked with red ink as irrelevant. 
Nevertheless the detail is of great importance in the 
plan drafted by the subconscious. Essentially, we 
have to regard the execution as an act of paternal 
severity in consequence of some youthful revolt. 
From this outlook, the introduction of the follow- 
ing incident is easy to understand : 

Henry Fourrier was very well known. Even when 
he was quite a little boy and when his father had 
made him go without his dinner because he had been 
naughty, a neighbour's wife was always ready to give 
him something to eat. 

Once more we have an image showing the mother's 
indulgence as contrasted with the father's strict- 
ness. A few lines later, the allusion to dinner is 
repeated in a rather original form : 

The execution was fixed for the next day before 
dinner in order to give an appetite to the spectators. 

The hour of the execution approaches, and Jean, 
though he has a good command of language and 
rarely uses words amiss, speaks of the man sen- 
tenced to death as '^the victim." In view of the 
nature of the crime, this sympathy seems out of 
place, and the master underlines the phrase; but 
from the outlook of the subconscious it is quite in 



CHILDREN 189 

order, for Jean has long since espoused his hero's 
cause. At length we reach the fatal moment : 

Now everyone was silent, the music too ceased, and 
Fourrier made his appearance, surrounded by soldiers. 
His face was pale, and he stumbled as he walked. Be- 
Jiind Mm came his mother more dead than alive. The 
condemned man slowly mounted the scaffold and stood 
erect, waiting. The executioner was there too, his 
face hidden hy a mask so that he could not he recog- 
nised. 

The head falls into the basket. Is this the end? 
By no means. An unexpected vengeance is on the 
way. A troop of horsemen emerges from one of the 
streets bringing a message from the authorities: 
^* Henry was not the guilty man!" So the authori- 
ties had made a mistake ! The crowd is infuriated 
at this news. 

Tears, sobs, oaths, arose from all over the square. 
The people rushed to the house of the judge who had 
sentenced Fourrier, but he was not there; they broke 
down the doors of the house and ravaged the whole 
place. 

An impotent revenge, but revenge none the less; 
and what a spirit of revolt underlies it. 



CHAPTER SIX 

THE CEISIS OF ADOLESCENCE 

Everyone knows that adolescence is heralded by a 
crisis. We are not so definitely informed concern- 
ing the elements of this crisis. Above all, in any 
particular case, it is difficult to say from objective 
examination what form it is taking ; how it is devel- 
oping; how far it has developed; or what is the best 
way of helping the girl or the lad with whom we are 
concerned in the actual stage of this crisis. It is 
here that analysis can come to our aid. 

The first case, that of Eaoul, exhibits the crisis 
in its simplest form, and as it presents itself in a 
normal youth. It is characterised by the sudden 
onset of a feeling of maladaptation to life, by an 
embarrassment in face of budding virility. "We also 
discern the protest against the authority of father 
and of schoolmaster which we have already noted 
in boys two or three years before puberty. 

In the case of Kitty we can watch a young girl's 
passion for a woman. According to Freud, a homo- 
sexual tendency, or at least a latent homosexual 
tendency, appears as a normal phase of adolescent 
life. Whatever we may think of this idea of a * la- 
tent tendency," there can be no doubt that declared 
passions for persons of the same sex are common 
at puberty. In young girls, such passions may take 

190 



THE CRISIS OF ADOLESCENCE 191 

an extremely idealised form. Marguerite Evard/ 
and subsequently Casimire Proczek,^ have both 
quoted, in this connection, ardent letters from young 
girls to other young girls, letters which are well 
worth reading. Kitty's phrases are no less ardent. 
From these platonic passions there is a gradual 
transition to unmistakable inversion. If the pla- 
tonic homosexual passions of puberty are not so en- 
tirely harmless as is usually supposed, it is likewise 
true that the declared homosexuality of puberty is 
not necessarily a grave matter. Analysis shows us 
that most of these cases are connected with infantile 
happenings and with infantile psychological states. 

Auguste Lemaitre has recently studied the inver- 
sion of adolescents from the psychoanalytical point 
of view.^ While struck with the frequency of this 
precocious inversion, he has secured evidence to 
show that it is usually the outcome of psychological 
causes which are amenable to reeducative analy- 
sis. 

Gerard, the third of our subjects, is a steady young 
fellow whose trouble is a conflict mainly of the 
moral order. He vacillates between different ideals. 
He is in revolt against paternal authority, and yet 
cannot bring himself to reject it. At the same time 
he is harassed by sexual temptations. Here we 
have the factors of a multiple conflict common 

^Evard, Uadoleseente, 1914, p. 140. 

2 Proczek, Ce que les parents devraient savoir sur leurs filles, 
1918, p. 110. — A Young Girl's Diary contains much valuable in- 
formation concerning this phase of development (cf. Bibliography, 
Anonymous). 

2 Lemaitre, Le symbolisme dans les reves des adolescents, 1921. 



192 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

among adolescents, and one likely to induce a high 
degree of nervous fatigue. 

Analysis can help us to guide the adolescent 
through such conflicts. We need not necessarily im- 
part all our discoveries to the youth or the maiden 
concerned. What was said of children in this re- 
spect, applies to some extent in the case of adoles- 
cents — and sometimes even in the case of adults. 
We may trouble our subjects unnecessarily by 
bluntly making them aware of certain tendencies. 
No one is entitled to declare apriori that all repres- 
sion is unwholesome. In especial, we should re- 
member that a tendency of which the subject is not 
yet fully aware, and one of which the subject in 
normal conditions becomes aware only by degrees, 
is not a repressed tendency. It is inadvisable to 
hurry development in such miatters. Tact is essen- 
tial here. 

i. BaovH 

Budding Virility. The Feeling of Constbaint. 

Eaoul is sixteen years of age. He is thoroughly 
normal, well balanced in all his aptitudes, and in 
most subjects of study he is at the head of his class. 
I shall record only one of his dreams, which is 
admirably representative of the normal crisis of 
adolescence. 

He is in a first-class compartment with his school- 
fellow Louis. Then he finds himself on the railway 
line running after the train, accompanied by Louis 



THE CRISIS OF ADOLESCENCE 193 

and others. Louis says to him: ''What a lark, the 
suction of the train will help us to catch it. ' ' At first 
Raoul thinks that he will be able to catch up with the 
train, but soon he is outdistanced. The country is 
well wooded ; there is a house which appears to be an 
inn ; here the train is waiting for them, but it has now 
become a post-chaise. He gets in, and is disappointed 
to find how close the quarters seem after the comfort- 
able first-class compartment. The driver of the post- 
chaise is Monsieur Weiss [the headmaster of Eaoul's 
boarding-school]. With Raoul, there are four school- 
boys in the post-chaise. Monsieur Weiss says to them : 
"Look at these four rolls." The rolls are wall maps; 
they are very much in the way. The inside of the 
post-chaise is like that of a motor car in which Raoul 
usually drives when the family goes away for a holi- 
day; in this motor car they are always crowded up 
with luggage. 

The associations are obvious. Louis is a bit of 
a dandy, and is fond of showing off. Eaoul cannot 
catch up with the train. In real life he is apt to be 
outclassed at certain physical exercises, especially 
running, by schoolfellows who, intellectually speak- 
ing, are his inferiors. Always at the head of the 
class, he finds it rather trying to be aware that his 
schoolmates excel Mm as gallants and sportsmen. 
The train after which he has to run represents the 
manliness in which he feels himself somewhat defi- 
cient. It should be noted that physically he is not 
very strong. 

The headmaster's words remind him that he has 
really heard Monsieur Weiss say something of the 



194 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

sort to some of the younger pupils who were 
* * packed ' ' into the school omnibus. It annoys him to 
be ^^ packed" into the post-chaise, and to be still 
treated as if he were one of the youngsters. He adds 
that Monsieur Weiss always insists that they should 
be very careful of their things. The post-chaise, then, 
is the school, with the constraints it imposes. But 
it is also the family environment, as we learn from 
the condensation of the post-chaise with the motor 
car. This is likewise shown by another associated 
memory, that of a donkey cart in which the family 
had gone for a drive through a countryside resem- 
bling the one seen in the dream. During this drive 
they had had to get out in one place and to run after 
the cart. "We see that the headmaster is condensed 
with the father. He represents authority, an 
authority against which Eaoul is feeling an inclina- 
tion to rebel. 

But the really troublesome things are these rolls 
they have to carry about, all four of them; each 
schoolfellow has a roU. The boy is growing up, and 
is incommoded thereby. What are these rolls? 
First of all they are maps of the world. Next they 
recall four rolled numbers of the review *^L 'Illus- 
tration" which, the night before, Eaoul had wanted 
to put away in his cupboard, and which had taken 
so much room that he could not get his slippers in. 
Now *^L'Illustration," like the maps, is an epitome 
of this great world, whose novelty makes its appeal 
to the adolescent, so that his interest in the new 
world tends to replace interest in the ordinary 
routine of the innocent life of boyhood. The same 



THE CRISIS OF ADOLESCENCE 195 

call of the world was symbolised by the train, which 
contained a reminiscence of an occasion when Kaonl 
had left his native city. Thus the rolls were sym- 
bolic of extroversion, of the life of the adult con- 
trasted with the life of the boy. In addition, how- 
ever, as we learn from numerous analyses, these rolls 
must be classed among symbols of the sexual organs, 
among the symbols which are almost always asso- 
ciated with those of the extroverted life of man- 
hood. Thus the rolls would seem to express the 
various aspects of the budding virility which mani- 
fests itself like a foreign body in the physical and 
mental life of the adolescent — a development which 
is at first embarrassing. 

Subjective embarrassment owing to the appear- 
ance of new forces ; objective embarrassment in face 
of an authority which still restricts the manifesta- 
tion of these forces; a sudden failure to achieve 
adaptation to life, which all at once has outdistanced 
the lad, so that he is forced to run in the attempt 
to keep up with it — such would seem to be the char- 
acteristics of the crisis which appears sooner or later 
in the life of all adolescents, however normal. This 
crisis is invariably distressing, but analysis can 
alleviate the distress. 

2. Kitty 

A Young Girl's Passion for a Woman. 

Kitty is sixteen years old. She has a lively imag- 
inative faculty, and feels the need of giving expres- 
sion to it through writings in prose or in verse. 



196 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

Her temperament is intuitive and liigHy nervous. 
She displays nervous symptoms such as are frequent 
during adolescence : alternate fits of depression and 
exaltation ; attacks of headache. But the dominant 
phenomenon in her life is an infatuation for a young 
Englishwoman whom she knows only by sight. To 
this lady, Kitty indites the most passionate of her 
poems ; her only desire is that her love shall be re- 
turned. This love makes her very sad, and yet she 
loves the sadness and diligently cultivates it. 

Kitty was four years old when her father died. 
Since then she has lived in intimate association with 
her mother, to whom she is greatly attached. She 
has already had passionate friendships. One of 
these was for a girl cousin ten years older than her- 
self, with whom she was in close touch when she was 
herself twelve years old. At thirteen, she idolised 
the French mistress at school. But none of her 
former passions has been so overwhelming as 
that with which she is now inspired for the fair 
unknown. 

This passion has lasted for several months. 
Eighteen months before the analysis, Kitty had had 
a dream, and she is convinced that it contained an 
anticipatory vision of the object of her affection. 
It was during the night following her fifteenth birth- 
day. We know how to estimate these dreams retro- 
spectively regarded as prophetic, especially when 
we have to do with so suggestible and imaginative 
a subject as Kitty. However, as soon as she saw 
the young Englishwoman, she imagined herself to 
recognise, feature by feature, the image of her 



THE CRISIS OF ADOLESCENCE 197 

dream, and lier passion was the outcome of the 
shock of this recognition. Here is the dream. 

I. She was in a huge forest. An old woman said to 
her: *'Come with me; I have something to show you.'* 
Kitty was frightened, but she went with the old 
woman, who said to her : **If you look in the glass you 
will see someone whom you will meet later and whom 
you will love.'* Kitty, looking in the glass, at first 
could see only her own image ; then the place of her 
own image was taken by that of a woman in mourning. 
[The unknown was in mourning when Kitty met her.] 

Having told her dream, Kitty went on talking, 
and wondered why she had given the unknown the 
fancy name of Regina. **It's not a name I'm very 
fond of ! ' ' She knows that Eegina is the same name 
as Reine. She has come across this name Reine in 
a book entitled Mon oncle et mon cure. It is the 
name of a girl in the book **who wants to get mar- 
ried, and with whom at the end somebody falls in 
love." The name also recalls to her a poem by 
Louis Duchosal. She quotes some verses of which 
she is particularly fond : 

De la laine de mon amour ... 
D'une dame, reine d'un jour. 

If we had had any doubt as to the characcer of 
Kitty's passion, these associations would suffice to 
convince us that she is really in love. 

Let us now consider the associations with the 
images in the dream. 



198 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

**01d woman '* calls up the idea of ''witch." This 
already suffices to make us think of one of the sym- 
bols of the ''collective unconscious," the symbol of 
the "dread mother." But the words of the old 
woman : ' ' Come with me ; I have something to show 
you, ' ' call up the memory of the same words uttered 
by Kitty's mother the day before the dream — Kit- 
ty's birthday. What her mother had to show was 
a birthday present, two volumes of verse. Louis 
Duchosal's Thule, and Victor Hugo's Les Contem- 
plations. She knew both the books, and had ex- 
pressed a wish to have them for her own. 

Such were the immediate associations. A few 
days later Kitty realised that her memory had been 
at fault. On her fifteenth birthday she had only 
been given Les Contemplations, The present of 
Thule had been on her sixteenth birthday. There 
had been a condensation of two kindred memories 
— a common phenomenon when adults are recalling 
memories of childhood — but the instance is rather 
remarkable as concerns memories so recent and so 
important. We must not fail to note the liberties 
Kitty's imagination takes with reality, for we shall 
then understand how easily so imaginative a mind 
could condense the memory of a dream with the 
actual sight of a lady in mourning, and become in- 
spired with the conviction that the vision of the 
dream and the actual vision were identical. 

Let us return to our commentary upon the dream. 
Kitty had looked forward with especial eagerness 
to her fifteenth birthday. It was a momentous oc- 
casion upon which a sort of miracle was to occur, 



THE CRISIS OF ADOLESCENCE 199 

for her naive fancy was that on this day she would 
** suddenly grow up.'' The expectation gave rise to 
a suggestion, to which the impressive dream was a 
response. 

The ^* glass" recalled to Kitty's mind the cousin 
to whom she had at one time been so deeply attached. 
This cousin, when she was going to sing somewhere, 
used to spend a long time in front of the glass, and 
Kitty used to say to her, **You'll be late." 

The mirror is a common symbol of autoerotism 
(the myth of Narcissus). We note, in fact, that in 
the dream the mirror in which Kitty is to see some- 
one whom she will love, shows her at first her own 
image. The words '^You'll be late," addressed to 
someone who is spending too long a time admiring 
her own image in the mirror, might be regarded as 
the expression of an arrest of development at the 
autoerotic infantile stage which Freud regards as 
the first stage of the sexual instinct. We must be 
careful, however, to avoid stressing such ingenious 
but fanciful interpretations, unless they are explic- 
itly confirmed by the personal associations of the 
subject. 

Cautiously, I endeavoured to explain to Kitty that 
her infatuation was the outicome of suggestion; to 
show her what had been the influence of expecting 
a miracle on her fifteenth birthday; to make her 
aware of the retrospective touching-up of her dream. 
I also tried to show her that the lady in mourning 
was akin to her own image, which had been replaced 
in the mirror by the other; that this vision was a 
part of herself; that consequently she possessed it 



200 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

in herself, and that she was mistaken in her search 
for it outside herself. Kitty listened to me with 
interest, bnt she was so much obsessed by her pas- 
sion that she could not fail to offer resistance. 

Apropos of memories of early childhood, and 
apropos of a prose poem, La dame voilee, written 
by Kitty at the age of thirteen, I can discuss remoter 
origins. 

Kitty has ** always represented to herself the per- 
son to whom she is greatly attached as being dressed 
in black/' One day, when she was eight years old, 
one of her cousins was going to a concert. The 
cousin was wearing a blue dress. Kitty said to her : 
**Why aren't you dressed in black? You would 
look so much prettier. ' ' Now the prototype of this 
image in black, of this *^ veiled lady," was Kitty's 
mother after the father's death. Here Kitty re- 
marks that most of the people she has. "idolised" 
were in mourning. The French mistress to whom 
she had been devoted when she was thirteen had 
been '*in mourning for her father;" another flame 
had been "in mourning for her husband;" another, 
"in mourning for her father." 

Furthermore Kitty remembers that when her 
father died (Kitty being then four years old) her 
mother had considered her too young to wear mourn- 
ing. A year later, Kitty had said: "I do wish 
someone would die in the family, so that we could 
go into mourning." For her, to wear mourning 
signifies to be no longer a child. Now, to be no 
longer a child was the miracle to which she was look- 



THE CRISIS OF ADOLESCENCE 201 

ing forward on her fifteenth birthday. Primarily, 
therefore, the young woman in black, who then ap- 
peared to her in a dream, and whom she subse- 
quently rediscovered in Eegina, was the image of 
herself grown to womanhood. This is why, in the 
mirror, the image of the woman in mourning took 
the place of her own image ; the woman in mourning 
had her hair down her back, just like Kitty. As 
for Eegina, she has dark eyes like Kitty's, Kitty 
being **the only one in the family to have dark 
eyes.'' In this image of herself Kitty externalises 
the unfulfilled wish of childhood '^to be in mourn- 
ing." Should we add ''to be in mourning for her 
father?" Are we on the track of infantile feelings 
towards her father! This is not unlikely. 

In actual fact, however, Kitty's love vacillates 
between this image of a second self, and the image 
of her mother. Her idols are sometimes ' * in mourn- 
ing for their father," and sometimes **in mourning 
for their husband." But in both cases, and espe- 
cially as far as Eegina is concerned, the maternal 
traits are more in evidence. The objects of affec- 
tion are older than Kitty; the cousin is ten years 
older; the schoolmistress is much older; Eegina is 
a married woman with a little boy. Kitty is greatly 
attached to her mother, and her first love passions 
are for grown women who are more or less maternal 
in type. 

The passion remains unrequited. Kitty writes to 
Eegina, sends her poems, but has no answer. As 
far as her upper consciousness is concerned, the 



202 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

love remains as fervent as ever. Below the thresh- 
old, however, dissociation is beginning. A month 
later she told me the following dream. 

II. Kegina was dead. It was in a large room. On 
the table was a coffin draped in black, and there were 
four candles, for it was late in the evening or at night. 
In the coffin Regina was lying dressed in white, arms 
crossed on the breast, her hair loose. The husband 
brought the little boy. Both were crying and Kitty 
cried too. The husband said: "You must not bear a 
grudge against her because she did not answer your 
letter ; she was already ill. ' ' 

Kitty ingenuously informs me that she has 
dreamed this several times * ^ during the last month. ' ' 
She adds: **I don't think I dreamed it before your 
first visit. ' ' She is afraid that the dream may por- 
tend Regina 's death. I explain to her that it is 
only within herself that something is going to come 
to an end, as the result of our analysis. But there 
is nothing mournful about this end. She is happy; 
and, spontaneously, '* mourning" has been replaced 
by *-*a white dress." Kitty remarks that in the 
dream she had on the night following her fifteenth 
birthday (I) the lady in the mirror had worn a 
white dress. A month earlier, when Kitty first told 
me of this dream, she said that the lady in the glass 
wore mourning, I showed her that her imagination 
was caught red-handed in one of those retrospective 
distortions which it inflicts upon dreams. Here we 
have an additional reason why Kitty is no longer 
impressed by the pseudo-recognition of an image 



THE CRISIS OF ADOLESCENCE 203 

previously seen in a dream. In any case, tlie sub- 
stitution of the white dress for the mourning is a 
good sign. Kitty has begun to escape from obses- 
sion by the infantile image. 
A week later there is a new dream. 

III. A lady tells Kitty that Regina will have to 
undergo a serious operation. 

This '* serious operation*' is the analysis itself. 
Consciously, Kitty is hardly changed; as she says, 
my explanations have more than once made her 
think things over; but she has not really accepted 
them. In the subconscious, however, forces are evi- 
dently at work. 

From this date I no longer saw Kitty, but she 
begged me not to lose interest in her, and she wrote 
to me from time to time. 

Now came a great surprise. Regina answered 
one of Kitty's letters. This was not likely to put 
an end to the infatuation. Kitty was delighted. 
Regina sent her photograph, and the sight of this 
photograph sufficed to bring about a spontaneous ^ 
hypnotic state in Kitty. (I had treated her by sug- 
gestion.) 

^ Of course the hypnosis was "induced" by the photograph. 
But it was "spontaneous" in the sense that it was not deliberately 
caused by a hypnotiser or intentionally by the subject. Compare 
the author's distinction between "spontaneous suggestion" and 
"induced suggestion" in Suggestion and Autosuggestion, p. 28, 
etc. — Translators' Note. 



204 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

Sometimes, pretty often but not always, when I 
look at the photograph I find I cannot turn away my 
eyes from it. What happens is this. Gradually my 
mind seems to become clouded, my senses are dulled, 
I no longer think of anything; I am unable to make 
the slightest movement; then my eyes grow heavy, 
then I begin to feel sleep. At such moments I feel 
as if I should be able to write a splendid poem, but I 
cannot hold a pencil; it drops from my fingers, and 
I lack the power to pick it up. I could stay for hours 
and hours without moving or speaking. When this 
sort of trance passes off, I regret its disappearance 
as a condition of restful tranquillity; I should like it 
to last for ever. 

There is something more remarkable to follow. 
When she has to do anything disagreeable or diffi- 
cult, she need merely glance at the photograph, and 
everything grows easy, even though she does not 
pass into a state of profound hypnosis. 

Here is a strange instance. A short time ago I had 
an English composition to write. My mistress had 
told me to choose my own subject. I was bored; I 
did not know what to write about; my thoughts were 
prancing from one subject to another without settling 
on anything. Suddenly my eyes fell on the photo. 
Mechanically I took it up, and then, still bored, with 
the photograph in front of me, I seized my pencil once 
more. But now, as by a miracle, I found a splendid 
subject, and I began to write with marvellous ease. 
I don't know much English yet, but on this occasion I 
did. And would you believe it, when I handed in the 
composition which I wrote while looking at the photo 
from time to time, / found it hard to persuade the 



THE CRISIS OF ADOLESCENCE 205 

English mistress that I had written it without aivy 
help. 

Eatty was obviously convinced that Kegina was 
exercising a mysterious influence over her. What 
really happened, doubtless, was a stimulation, in 
the hypnotic state, of memory traces that were not 
sufficiently active to produce an effect in the normal 
state. In the particular instance we are now con- 
sidering, they were memory traces of English 
words or phrases which had been read or heard, but 
not consciously retained. This indicates the ex- 
treme suggestibility of the subject, and only upon 
the basis of a hyper suggestibility can we understand 
the genesis of such an infatuation. From the point 
of view of the analysis the interesting fact is that 
Eegina has become the suggester. Regina has been 
substituted for me. It is, so to speak, a reversal of 
transference; my influence declines somewhat, whilst 
the obsessive image correspondingly regains power. 
It is as if the subconscious were making an effort to 
elude me, to attach itself more strongly to the guid- 
ing fiction. 

However, fresh disillusionments were in store. 
Regina was to have spent the winter in Kitty's town, 
but she decided not to go after all. Then she gave 
up writing. Kitty's passion grew desperate. 

What am I to do? I wanted to attract her in any 
way I could, but hitherto I have failed. Apparently 
my poems do not interest her, for she never refers to 
them (besides, I have given up sending them, for what 



206 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

is the use?) I had counted on them to soften her 
heart, and I am quite at my wits' end. I have tried 
everything, all shades of feeling ; I have exhausted the 
most affectionate, the most loving words; I have put 
all my soul into my letters, and more than my soul. 
Nothing, not a word. 

Months elapsed, and at length calm was restored. 
The explanations I had given Kitty more than a 
year earlier, and which she had noted without ac- 
cepting, were now rediscovered by herself, and were 
retailed by her to me. Her passion had been sub- 
limated. She understood now what she had pre- 
viously been unwUling to admit, that Eegina was in 
herself. She no longer wanted to see Eegina. 

If I ever meet her, I shall say to her : * * For me you 
are a soul, a god ; I do not want to know you person- 
ally, for as soon as I know you you will cease to be a 
god for me.'' 

Simultaneously, the imagery of Kitty's poems, 
which had hitherto been invariably concerned with 
feminine and maternal characteristics, is directed 
towards masculine traits. She has outgrown the 
stage of homosexual passion. This stage is normal 
in a girPs crisis of adolescence, but in Kitty it had 
taken an acute and almost alarming form. 

3, Gerard 
Vacillating Sublimation. A State of Conflict. 

Gerard is eighteen years of age. His case is a 
conspicuous example of phenomena which are com- 



THE CRISIS OF ADOLESCENCE 207 

mon in adolescents. He suffers from nervous 
fatigue which paralyses his attempts at intellectual 
work. The nervous condition is complicated by other 
elements which need not be considered here. It is, 
however, easy to recognise the preponderant influ- 
ence of a state of conflict. The young man's inner 
life is intensely active; conflicting forces, powerful 
energies, neutralise one another. Precisely because 
of the struggle between these contending forces, and 
because of the consequent fatigue, his effective out- 
put is small. 

Gerard has lofty moral ambitions. An idealist, 
strongly religious, extremely individualistic, and an- 
imated with a keen sense of individual responsibil- 
ity, he inclines towards a life that is to be pure and 
heroically beneficent. He lives chastely, and over- 
comes even powerful temptation. But he hesitates 
what path of sublimation to choose, for choice is 
complicated by the conflict of trends of which he is 
barely conscious. 

Gerard told me of a dream he had had when he 
was between ten and twelve years old. It is an un- 
conscious self -revelation of this inward disturbance. 

I. He was a dragon. He wore a helmet; he had a 
mane; he was on horseback. Then he discovered a 
way of flying. He was walking in the air, much after 
the manner in which Jesus walked upon the lake. 

The dragon is obviously a symbol, not only of 
virility, but also of sexuality. Apropos of the word 
dragon he thinks of the mythological dragon, **the 



208 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

animal with the tongue of flame.'' Likewise, in this 
connection, he thinks of medieval images: ** Levia- 
than, a huge horned muzzle, devils which issue danc- 
ing." In a word, the human beast. ^^ Helmet" 
evokes ** fireman;" ** horse" evokes *^ pashas with 
two or three tails;" and Oriental images which, in 
other associations, are manifestly erotic. He 
wishes *^to fly" — but Jesus walking on the lake calls 
up in his mind * * the foundering of him who tried to 
do the like." All his distress is summed up in this 
phrase. He feels that superhuman forces will be 
requisite to enable him to reach his ideal. 

It is interesting to note that in Gerard's case one 
of the associations of ** flying" was ^* domination." 
We are reminded of Adler's ideas concerning com- 
pensation and the will-to-power. Physically, Ger- 
ard regards himself as a weakling, as incapable of 
becoming a ** dragon." It is extremely natural 
that he should feel a high degree of spiritualisation 
to be a possible form of compensation, a means by 
which he could achieve mental dominance. 

Gerard told me of another vision of childhood, 
one which he had had many times when he was quite 
young, about six or seven years old. It used to 
come to him as soon as he closed his eyes before go- 
ing to sleep. 

II. In the dark there is a host of devils grimacing. 
Some of them have fiery eyes. These devils' bodies 
are smooth, green or black. They are beardless and 
hairless. Some of them are lame. Some have no legs. 
There are also some legs tiptoeing about. — A red leg. 
— They all dance by. 



THE CRISIS OF ADOLESCENCE 209 

A detailed analysis of these visions of the human 
beast would be superfluous. They are among the 
plainest of those belonging to the domain of the col- 
lective unconscious and to the realm of myth. It 
is interesting to compare these smooth, hairless 
bodies, these legless trunks, with the analogous hal- 
lucinations of Auguste Lemaitre's subject Amedee. 
This was a lad of fifteen who had hallucinatory 
visions of a woman of whom he could see only the 
*'head and arms and the upper part of the trunk, 
and lower down, the crossed legs." She was pat- 
ting a dog which was hairless and had no legs. 
Here we have a systematic repression of images 
that are directly sexual.^ In Gerard, the vision of 
the devils completes that of the dragon, apropos of 
which latter there have already appeared ^* devils 
which issue dancing." We should carefully note 
these images and those with which they are asso- 
ciated — the red leg, the dancing devils, the pashas, 
and the East. They will help us in later stages of 
the interpretation. Dancing, in particular, is re- 
pugnant to Gerard ; he looks upon it as * * a sacrifice 
upon the altar of the flesh. ' ' 

Certain other dreams of Gerard's childhood, 
stereotyped and of frequent occurrence, carry us a 
stage further. 

HI. Gerard was falling down a well, without reach- 
ing the bottom. — ^At other times he was on a railway 

^ For fuller details of Amedee's ease, cf . Baudouin, Suggestion 
et autosuggestion, pp. 38-40; English translation, pp. 52-54. Cf. 
also Lemaitre's account, "Archives de Psychologic," July, 1916. 



210 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

line between two walls. The train was chasing him. 
He fell; he got up again. He was running along 
the metalled way or along the footpath; his skin 
was grazed. He saw in front of him the level crossing 
where he would be safe. But he fell, panic-stricken, 
and lay stretched out. 

Associated with these images are ideas of suffo- 
cation, and childish terrors, especially dread of the 
dark and of being alone. In connection with the 
words **lay stretched out," Gerard has a '* breath- 
less feeling." He recalls other dreams, suffocation 
dreams he had when still younger; perhaps they 
were dreams unattended by any visual image; 
dreams in which he was unable to cry out. A tend- 
ency to claustrophobia is manifest. Must we go so 
far as to speak of fantasies of a return to the 
mother's womb? The subject's associations give no 
direct indication of anything of the kind ; but in this 
case as in others, claustrophobia seems to be linked 
in some way with the maternal complex. 

Falling down a well is falling into a forbidden and 
dangerous abyss. At this stage Gerard has a rem- 
iniscence of a well beside which he used to play with 
other children. 

We sat on the parapet ; we were not allowed to lean 
over. 

With the narrow passage *' between two walls" 
there were the following associations, which were 
related to the claustrophobia. 



THE CRISIS OF ADOLESCENCE 211 

I have never liked roads between high walls. IVe 
always been afraid of being alone. 

But this dread is linked v^ith a state of conflict. 
He has reminiscences which are promptly organized 
into a symbol of the conflict. 

The road was running beside the sea, and then it led 
inland. The sea was eating away the clifPs. I went 
to the edge of the cliff, although it was forbidden. 
The path ran very near the edge of the cliff. 

**The sea" and ^ inland" represent the two terms 
of the conflict. **The sea" evokes '^fear, and at the 
same time the lure of solitude and the sea." Here 
we have the side which turns towards solitude and 
introversion. We have attachment to the mother.^ 
** Inland" is the side of life which is virile and ex- 
troverted. The path turns away from **the sea" 
for a time, and leads inland. Gerard fancies that 
from a cliff he watches the road thus leading ** in- 
land." The sight was **a distraction." The road 
called up reminiscences of bicycling with other boys 
when *^they were going to smoke on the sly." 
Now we come to images of budding virility and for- 
bidden pleasures. The narrow way leads between 
the two lives. The anxiety, the customary symptom 

^The author refers parenthetically to the word-play between 
la mer (the sea) and la mere (the mother) as being frequent in 
imaginative fantasies. The actual word-play is untranslatable, 
but a similar condensation of images is, of course, common in 
English. Cf. Swinburne^s "Mother and lover of men, the sea," 
in The Triumph of Time. — Translators' Note. 



212 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

of a conflict, expresses here the conflict between two 
fundamental tendencies, the one which keeps along 
**the sea," and the one which leads ** inland." 

Free associations to simple words I mention to 
the subject help us to continue the analysis. 

IV. '*Dog." — A dog which laughs and twists its 
body. 

*' Twist one's body." — A young schoolfellow who 
suffered a little from St. Vitus 's dance. He laughed 
like a hysterical patient. Gerard himself. He, too, 
has nervous movements; he has ''a less refined form 
of degeneration." 

*'Fire." — Dancing flames. Goblins coming out of 
the fire; one of Grimm's tales. His ideas are dancing 
with the flames. This makes him lose the thread of 
his ideas. Gerard himself once more. His own in- 
stability. How easily he is influenced. 

We have returned to the dancing devils, and to 
dancing in general, dancing flames, St. Vitus 's 
dance. What interests us is that Gerard associates 
these images, whose significance is known to us, 
with certain physical and moral traits characteristic 
of his state: first of all with disorderly nervous 
movements, and subsequently with a mind that is 
unstable and easily influenced. Dancing nerves and 
dancing ideas. Thus spontaneously, without sus- 
pecting it, he expresses the link between these symp- 
toms and the inward conflict. 

This instability, of which he is aware, shows itself 
above all in moral and religious hesitancy, in vacil- 



THE CRISIS OF ADOLESCENCE 213 

lations of choice between different forms of sub- 
limation. 

V. Here are two dreams of two successive nights. 
In one of these Gerard attends service in a Catholic 
church; in the other, in a Protestant church. The 
Catholic church was in the rue de Tournon, where 
there is no such church ; it was in the place where there 
actually is a Protestant church, the church of the sec- 
ond dream. In the Catholic church Gerard receives 
communion, but does so in both kinds. On leaving, 
he has a talk with a priest concerning liberal Catholi- 
cism. They stroll together towards the Odeon; they 
pass beside the Luxembourg. 

Gerard has been brought np by bis father as a 
strict Protestant. He remains a Protestant, but is 
charmed by a Catholic symbolism. He finds Protes- 
tantism somewhat rationalistic and dry, so that it 
fails to satisfy all his needs. 

The **rue de Tournon'' calls up reminiscences of 
childhood, pianoforte lessons, gymnastic lessons, a 
trapeze exercise which the gymnastic master used 
to call '* Bound the World in Eighty Days" (images 
of extroversion). Here there are word-plays: 
Tournon, tourner, is equivalent to the German 
*'turnen," which means gymnastics. There are 
reminiscences of children's dances, dressing up 
(travesti)y wearing masks. In this connection we 
once more have ^ * symbolism, " and once more 
'^dancing." 

Subsequently, the Odeon calls up the disguises 
and the *'sybolism" of the theatre; the Luxembourg 



214 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

leads to the Latin Quarter, to Verlaine, and, through 
other associations, to Gerard's first childish inquisi- 
tiveness concerning matters of sex. 

In all this we may discern an aesthetic and sym- 
bolist trend, by means of which he is enabled to 
^ travesty'* and to sublimate the sexual instinct bet- 
ter than he can within the confines of a system of 
* ' dry rationalism. ' ' Apropos of the * * two kinds, ' ' he 
considers that ** Protestantism is more dualist than 
Catholicism." The main significance of this is that 
Protestantism leaves him more fully aware of his 
own duality; does not give him a chance of unify- 
ing his religious tendencies with his sexual instinct ; 
leaves the latter free to pursue an independent ex- 
istence and to carry on a surreptitious war. Cath- 
olic '* symbolism, ' ' on the other hand, with its 
warmer and more palpable imagery, supplies step- 
ping-stones, bridges more effectively the hiatus 
between religion and the sexual instinct. 

This dream brought to light a hidden conflict 
which subsequently developed in the conscious. At 
the date of the dream, the inclination toward Cathol- 
icism merely took the form of a sympathy. A con- 
siderable time afterwards the Catholic trend became 
stronger, giving rise to a crisis, to thoughts of con- 
version. But doubtless the conflict contained 
additional elements, for at other times Gerard dis- 
played a socialist trend. He was thus oscillating on 
either side of the Protestant ideal, now to the right 
and now to the left. There would seem, above all, 
to have been a subconscious wish to throw off pater- 
nal authority. This conforms both with the CEdipus 



THE CRISIS OF ADOLESCENCE 215 

complex, of which there are several signs in Gerard, 
and with the intense individualism and the spirit 
of revolt which are characteristic of his tempera- 
ment. To safeguard sublimation (which has been 
modelled by his father's educational influence) and 
nevertheless to reject his father's authority — such 
would seem to be the troublesome conflict going on 
within Gerard's mind. 

Taking advantage of this conflict, the lower ele- 
ments moved forward to the assault. We see this 
in the following dream which Gerard had a few days 
later. 

VI. One of Gerard's greatest friends, a steady 
young fellow, an only child, and therefore somewhat 
spoiled though carefully brought up, had gone to 
spend the night out with a woman, in Spain. Gerard 
was greatly distressed, as though he had been person- 
ally responsible. His friend had wanted him to come 
too, but he had refused. 

** Spending the night out" called up reminiscences 
of actual temptations, one evening when Gerard had 
made a tour of the cafes with some of his friends. 
* * Spain " is * * Gil Bias ' ' and a life of escapades. To 
sum up, everything shows that Gerard is calling his 
friend into the matter to denote his own double. 

The next dream expressly shows that the tempta- 
tions are reinforced by the vacillations and checks 
of sublimation. 

VII. Gerard is to preach in a church, at ten o'clock. 
He is in a garden recalling that of Cluny Museum and 



216 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

Monge Square. He loiters. On taking out his watch 
he sees that it is eleven o'clock. He has failed to keep 
an appointment which was a great honour to him. He 
tries to put the matter out of his mind, this being his 
usual practice when anything disagreeable has hap- 
pened. He finds himself back in the garden, having 
tea with a party of four or five persons. 

Cluny, with its museum, brings us to the aesthetic 
and ^* symbolist" trend, and to the Latin Quarter. 
It is in order that he may linger here that Gerard 
fails to keep the appointment which is such an honour 
to him. Here we have a new indication of the fact 
that, when there is a conflict between different forms 
of sublimation, there is considerable risk that sub- 
limation may completely fail to occur. ^* Monge 
Square ' ' reminds him of a tram running off the rails 
there. He feels that he himself is running off the 
rails. Having failed to reach the exalted goal, he 
tries to forget his failure, and lapses into pleasure- 
seeking. The '* persons'' at the end of the dream 
call up pleasure-parties and *^ dubious company." 

Another dream gives unambiguous expression to 
a sexual lapse. 

VIII. In a hotel. There is a young couple in the 
next room. The party wall breaks down. Gerard 
tumbles into the other room. 

The associations of '^the party wall breaks down" : 
reading Courteline; improprieties. The tumbling 
into the other room calls up : being caught listening 
at doors ; doing what one should not. 



THE CRISIS OF ADOLESCENCE 217 

The last dream I shall record shows exceedingly 
well the state of inhibition resulting from these con- 
flicts. 

IX. Gerard was chained by one hand, probably the 
left. ... He was entitled to unchain himself or to go 
for a walk, but he always had to come back to where 
he was chained. The chain had to be heavy. It was a 
sort of torture, with a flavour of martyrdom about it. 
Perhaps Gerard went to see his parents from time to 
time. He had some books, but his hand hurt, and he 
found it difficult to hold his books open. He was sit- 
ting on some cushions. In an oriental book, he was 
looking at the picture of a dancing dervish who was 
dressed in a blue silk robe shot with black, and was 
wearing red stockings. The close of the dream was 
definitely sexual. 

Gerard is really ^' chained. '* This word called 
up the following reflection. 

Life is difficult, we are chained by our surroundings, 
and we cannot reach our ideal. 

The book which he finds it difficult to keep open 
recalls that he sometimes finds it difficult to read 
while he is walking; it is the difficulty of mental 
work in the state of nervous fatigue from which he 
is suffering. Something more is at stake than mere 
work; what is at stake is the conquest of spiritual 
force. The word *' books" evokes * 'books I am fond 
of; especially Eomain Holland's Vie de Beethoven 
and Eabindranath Tagore's Poems. The first rep- 



218 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

resents for him **force;'' the second **a frenzy of 
pure love." Being ** entitled to unchain himself" 
calls up the * * right to individualism ; " a right which 
is actually a duty. Here we discern the opposi- 
tion to his family and to his father's ideal. Going 
to **see his parents" called up a real desire to see 
them again. Then he said: 

A need for support which is in conflict with individ- 
uality. To seek support from others is to chain one- 
self up. 

The cushions evoke **rest, which is necessary but 
treacherous." This **rest" does in fact enable 
temptation to get the upper hand. The oriental 
book, the dancing dervish, and the red stockings, are 
images with which we are familiar (II), and we are 
not surprised that the dream in which they appear 
should have an erotic close. 

Gerard is chained by his conflicts ; he is exhausted 
by these internal struggles, and the exhaustion 
(* 'needful but treacherous rest") makes him more 
than ever a prey to the assaults of the sexual in- 
stinct, and thereby his trouble is aggravated. The 
vacillating sublimation is **a kingdom divided 
against itself," and confusedly he is afraid that the 
dominion is about to be overthrown. Previous en- 
ergies are squandered within this closed precinct, 
where many fine young fellows are held prisoner, 
but from which an adequate analysis would set them 
free. 



CHAPTER SEVEN 

ATTITUDE TOWARDS THE PARENTS 

One of the most definite and most general acMeve- 
ments of psychoanalysts is to show that a child's 
attitude towards its respective parents (more or less 
marked love or hostility) is related to a definite type 
of character. I write *^ related'' in order to avoid 
being too ready to formulate a causal theory. Even 
when the existence of the relationship in question 
has been definitely ascertained, and has been re- 
peatedly confirmed by fresh analyses, it remains 
susceptible of various interpretations. 

Let us consider what Freud terms the (Edipus 
complex. This is the condition in which a boy is 
greatly attached to his mother while more or less 
hostile to his father. What frequently happens, 
when the disposition in question is strongly marked, 
is that the subject exhibits certain character traits 
which are almost fixed, such as a tendency to shun 
the world, introversion, timidity, a dread of sexu- 
ality and of the virile aspects of life. According to 
Freud's interpretations, the attachment to the 
mother is primitive, being a manifestation of ** in- 
fantile sexuality." The hostility to the father is the 
outcome of jealousy. The fixation of the ^* libido" 
upon the mother gives rise to the subsequent inhi- 
bitions. Adler criticises this view.^ He considers 

1 Adler, Ueber den nervosen Charakter, 1919, p. 5 ; The Neurotic 
Constitution, 1921, p. 8. 

219 



220 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

the (Edipus complex to be a manifestation of a 
child's will-to-power. The boy primarily wishes to 
take his father 's place ; hostility to the father is the 
primordial element; the fantasies in which the boy 
regards himself as ^* mother's husband" are merely 
an expression of this desire; the sexual element is 
no more than a symbol. The two theses are not ir- 
reconcilable. 

We are entitled to ask, moreover, whether the 
psychological type is an outcome of these infantile 
dispositions, or whether it antecedes and determines 
them. Adler inclines to hold the latter view, for he 
considers that the little boy's ** will-to-power" has 
merely been accentuated by his feeling of weakness ; 
and this feeling of weakness explains the subsequent 
manifestations (shunniQg the world, timidity, etc.). 
The fantasies of return to the womb, the cult of the 
Virgin Mary, etc., are regarded by Freudians as 
vestiges of the fixation of feeling upon the mother. 
Adler, on the other hand, regards them as nothing 
more than symbols of the longing for security.^ 

A direct study of the history of the early years 
of life in certain subjects, and the fact that analysis 
of the infantile causes mitigates the subsequent 
manifestations, favour the theory that these infantile 
feelings have a genuinely causal efficacy. But this 
does not hinder the objects of such feelings from 
being subsequently regarded as symbols. In any 
case, dubieties of theory must not make us overlook 
the solidity of the relations we have been consider- 
ing. Perhaps the most convenient way out of the 

^ Adler, op. cit., p. 139 ; English translation, p. 148. 



ATTITUDE TOWARDS THE PARENTS 221 

difficulty is to say that ** every thing happens as if" 
the infantile feelings were the cause of the subse- 
quent developments. 

The first case is that of a woman, Miriam, who is 
strongly attached to her father, and whose whole 
life is guided by the worship and the imitation of 
her father. The other two subjects, Marcel and 
Otto respectively, are men who exhibit the OEdipus 
complex. In the former, dread of the father has 
been transformed into general timidity. In the lat- 
ter, the introversion shows itself physically in a 
certain awkwardness, and morally in a refusal of 
virility and a tendency towards philosophical abstrac- 
tion; the social instincts and the combative instinct 
have been repressed; individualism is extremely 
marked. 

1, Miriam 

A Eeligioxts and Social Calling Inspired by the 
Cult of the Father. 

A State of Conflict. 

The analysis of this case was incomplete. More- 
over, in transcribing it, I shall record only its salient 
features. These, however, seem to me typical. 

Miriam is a woman nearly fifty years of age. 
Married and a mother, but separated from her fam- 
ily in consequence of the war, she has become a 
hospital nurse, this representing to her a most im- 
portant vocation. She is in a state of extreme 
nervous tension; she is always bustling about like 



222 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

some one who never attains complete self-satisfac- 
tion, and has never found a proper balance. 

The first dream she told me was not a recent one, 
for it dated from the time when she adopted her new 
calling. Overnight she had not yet made up her 
mind, and as she was thinking matters over she was 
mentally questioning her dead father, with the feel- 
ing that he would approve her choice. The dream 
seemed to come as an answer, so that it helped her 
to make up her mind. She communicated it to me 
in writing. 

I. Before adopting my new calling I dreamed of my 
father. I saw him coming towards me in uniform, 
but I saw that beneath the clothing there was only a 
skeleton. The expression of his face was calm and 
benign. I rushed up to him, wishing to kiss his chest, 
but he said to me: ''No, not there, that has an evil 
smell; kiss me on the lips." I kissed him ardently. 
He said: ''Don't be afraid. Take the door which is 
open. I shall be with you, nothing will happen to you, 
you can be quite easy in your mind. I shall always 
be with you." 

Apropos of this dream, Miriam said that she had 
had an extraordinary affection for her father. She 
added : 

I have always the feeling that father is beside me. 

Her father was an army surgeon. She has this 
reminiscence dating from the age of five. 



ATTITUDE TOWARDS THE PARENTS 223 

She was watching her father dressing some wounds, 
and her wish was to do the same thing when she grew 
up. 

Here are some other memories of childhood: 

She would dress up as a boy, an officer, and would 
play at riding on horseback. She liked to play at 
being a doctor and to treat corns. 

Sometimes, too, she looked forward to becoming a 
great actress. Her mother had been a great singer, 
but had given up this career when she married. 

We can already discern the starting-point of a con- 
flict between two wishes: first, that for a womanly 
life, a very active one, artistic and elegant; sec- 
ondly, that for a manly life, a copy of her father's, 
subordinated to a strong sense of duty, directed 
towards the relief of others, and under military dis- 
cipline. The ** extraordinary" affection for her 
father must have helped to give the second wish the 
upper hand. From early childhood, Miriam had 
been very fond of uniforms, and especially military; 
uniforms. In her present occupation she dresses 
wounds and wears a uniform. She has thus mod- 
elled her life upon the paternal *4mago," which is 
always alive and active within her. (**I shall al- 
ways be with you." — **I have always the feeling that 
father is beside me.") 

In a second dream, comparatively recent, the pre- 
ponderant role of the father is again manifest. 



224. STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

II. I was passing the chapel of my old School. 
Christ, nailed to the cross, was lying on the ground 
athwart the threshold. My father was close to the re- 
cumbent figure. He said: *'You see that it is a corpse. 
We must raise it. You are a nurse ; give me a hand. 
Perhaps an operation will still help.'* I drew near, 
and my father and I together lifted Christ's body from 
the cross. Then I awoke. 

This action of lifting a dead body called np in 
Miriam the memory of an incident in the hospital 
when a soldier had to be lifted in the same way. 
Even without this definite association, it would have 
been obvious that the dream contained an allusion 
to her work at the hospital. In this dream, like- 
wise, her father presides over the work. But there 
is an element which was not expressed in the first 
dream, namely, the identification of the sufferers 
with Christ, the subject's fundamentally religious 
outlook upon her vocation. This tie between an in- 
tense and active religious sentiment and the idea 
of the father can often be noted in women who are 
strongly attached to the father. 

In Miriam this attachment exhibits the charac- 
teristic features of the Electra complex. In her 
fantasies (dream I, for example), her fondness finds 
expression in the images of a sensual love, in which 
the lower elements are of course repressed. (*'Not 
there, that has an evil smell.'') Moreover, when 
the mother's image passes away, Miriam's fantasies 
express an extremely intimate union with the father. 

Here is a striking instance. While the analysis 



ATTITUDE TOWARDS THE PARENTS 225 

was in progress, Miriam heard that her mother's 
death was imminent, and was greatly distressed by 
the news. After having told me this, she added : 

Last night I look off my nightgown and wore my 
father's dressing gown. I kept it on all night. It 
made me feel so much better. 

Here we doubtless have an echo of the infantile 
feeling of love for the father, a jealous love, and one 
in which she wishes to seek shelter. 

Now comes a dream which she has had frequently. 
This introduces us to a different order of ideas. 

III. I often dream of a ship at sea. I am on the 
ship. The water is often brown, but nevertheless, the 
sun is shining brightly. 

This same dream, with variations, recurs shortly 
afterwards. 

IV. Miriam saw herself on the shore of a lake which 
was dirty and brown. There were a great many 
people there. She had to cross the lake with a friend. 

I have epitomised the dream; it contained allu- 
sions to current affairs. But in so far as it coin- 
cided with the habitual dream, its general lines were 
those we have been considering. 

** Brown" is a colour which Miriam dislikes. The 
**lake which is dirty and brown'' calls to her mind 
a canal adjoining the house where she lived with 



226 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

her husband. This *^ brown water" is as unpleas- 
ant to her as mud or fsBces. As for *^a great many 
people," in this connection she has the following 
associations : 

A picnic. — A picnic which Miriam saw on the shore 
of a lake when she was about eighteen. — Her loathing 
of this picnic. — A lot of drunken people. — The street 
through which she had to pass on her way back from 
her father's house; the street in which there were 
drunken people. 

In another dream there is a change of motif. 

V. She had to start on a sea voyage. She saw her- 
self on the sea-shore. The water was blue but there 
was a heavy swell. She said to herself: *' Everyone 
will be seasick.'' There must have been a ship some- 
where about, but she could not see it. 

There was a wealth of associations to this invis- 
ible ship : 

The Flying Butchmcm, which she saw at Frankfort 
when she was there with her husband in 1889. — They 
had come late and had left before the end. She re- 
members one of the scenes with the shadow of a ship. 
The mirage of a ship which she saw in the Mediter- 
ranean. — ^Mirages she has seen in the African desert. 
The mirages recall reminiscences: a terrace on which 
she had tea in the early days of her marriage; her 
son's beginning to walk. 

I should add that the colour ** brown" — not re- 
pugnant this time, but as if sunlit (^* copper-col- 



ATTITUDE TOWARDS THE PARENTS 227 

oured'O — appeared iii another dream; this leads us 
to the colour of the Eiffel Tower and to the same 
year 1889, the year of the Paris Exhibition, the first 
year of her marriage, the year of beautiful memories 
and of ** amusements." The copper colour in the 
dream was the colour of a pair of satin slippers. 

The elements of dreams III-V are akin and are 
mutually explanatory. We are concerned with 
youth, *4ife," and love; with extroversion, if you 
will. This is the ** voyage" to which the dreams 
refer. 

The *^ seasickness" and the *^ dirty brown" call 
up a repugnant aspect of this life. From various 
allusions, and by analogy with many other analyses, 
we can easily recognise the cruder aspect of sexual- 
ity. **A great many people" seen on the shore of 
this dirty water (IV) recalls a **picnic" of which 
the subject had a *4oathing," one she went to when 
she was eighteen years old (the age of certain in- 
itiations) ; it also recalls images of ** drunken peo- 
ple ' ' met when she was leaving **her father's house." 

*^ Nevertheless, the sun is shining brightly." It 
is the sun of 1889, youth, travelling, the theatre, the 
first days of married life, and the epoch of her little 
boy's beginning to walk. But Miriam has a more 
or less conscious feeling that she was unable to en- 
joy this life to the full. She expresses this by two 
very fine symbols, connected with the memory of 
the play she and her husband went to see in Frank- 
fort. '*They had come late and left before the 



228 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

end." This is the first symbol. The second sym- 
bol is that of the ^'mirages" (associated with these 
the subject has reminiscences of her youth). Here 
we have the '* phantom ship,'* which was that in 
which she made her own '^voyage." 

In a word, Miriam has not fully accepted a 
woman's life; and we know the conflict which is the 
cause of her failure to accept it. Symbolically, she 
has never been able to quit ^*her father's house." 
The fascination of the paternal '4mago" has led 
her to seek a life of a somewhat masculine charac- 
ter, quasi-military, a life under orders, a life of self- 
denial. 

The following dream, which likewise occurred 
during the period of the analysis, shows that the 
conflict was still going on at that date : 

VI. An eminence overlooking the sea. . . . Two 
cliffs between which the tide is ebbing. A casino, 
music, a fashionable crowd, palm trees. A snake 
writhing. Miriam starts. A gentleman says to her: 
*'f)on^t be afraid." But the snake allures her. She 
says: **The snake typifies cunning." The gentleman 
answers: '*No, it typifies wisdom." She is fascinated. 
She puts the snake into a basket and gives it to the 
gentleman. The snake disports itself in a flowery 
mead. The gentleman says to her: **You must never 
part from this snake, it is very gentle." 

In the sea which is ebbing between two cliffs, and 
above all in the episode of the snake, purely sexual 
allusions are obvious. It is remarkable to find once 



ATTITUDE TOWARDS THE PARENTS 229 

more, in a woman who has never heard of Freud's 
ideas, this typical fantasy, which has been analysed 
hundreds of times, and which is as old as the world 
— or the Garden of Eden. On this tree are grafted 
all the feelings which have just been evoked by the 
reminiscences of 1889. 
Here are some associations: 

An eminence overlooking tJie sea. A seaside resort 
where Miriam stayed with her son when he was five 
or six years old. 

The ehhing tide. Another seaside resort. This also 
is connected with her son's childhood. She was there 
with her husband. 

Snake. A snake she saw in the Caucasus. She was 
with her husband and her son. It was a happy time. 

The gentleman. This was an intimate friend of her 
husband. He was the same age as her husband; he 
was devoted to their son. 

The flowery mead. Her mother. 

**The gentleman" is manifestly a substitute for 
the husband, and the first associations evoke definite 
memories of the early days of married life. The 
last association is explained by the fact that this 
elegant and flowery life is linked with the image of 
her mother (the singer), just as the life of self- 
denial is linked with the image of the father. She 
has never made a definitive choice between these 
two lives, nor has she been able to harmonise the 
two. The latent conflict is doubtless largely respon- 
sible for her perennial condition of restless agita- 
tion. 



230 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

She dreams of someone who seems to be a substi- 
tute for the father, and she remarks that she is on 
the lookout for this person's daughter. She is 
really searching for herself. 

Here is another dream. 

VII. Someone gives her a scrap of greyish-blue 
paper, upon which she can read, as if seen through 
tracing paper, the words: *' Where are you? Whither 
are you going?" The writing is rather like her 
mother's. 

The piece of paper calls up the paper on which 
she used to write to her husband ; but doubtless the 
fact that she sees the writing **as if through tracing 
paper" is in line with the ** mirages" of the remin- 
iscences previously recorded. The question ** Where 
are you?" reminds Miriam that her mother called 
out these words to her in the garden one day when 
someone was coming to pay a visit; this ** someone 
was coming to pay a visit" promptly evokes the 
coming of her husband. We are still in the same 
circle of ideas. Nothing could express more aptly 
than these two questions the state of a mind which 
is unsatisfied, which is questioning itself, which is 
searching. 

During the analysis, which was accompanied by 
autosuggestion, considerable though somewhat 
fluctuating progress was made towards securing out- 
ward and inward calm. The subject was delighted 
with the results. Unfortunately circumstances 
made it impossible to pursue the analysis as far as 
it ought to have been pursued. 



ATTITUDE TOWARDS THE PARENTS 231 



2. Marcel 

Dread of the Father. Timidity and undue 
Scrupulosity. 

Marcel, a man of thirty-five, a clerk, is timid and 
scrupulous in disposition. His timidity and 
scruples are manifest in connection with his profes- 
sional work; it is when he is at the office that they 
are seen in an acute form. 

He is continually wondering whether he has done 
his work right; he checks an account twenty times 
over; cannot add up figures under the eye of the 
head clerk without feeling paralysed with alarm; 
and he will return again and again to make sure 
he has locked up the office on leaving. An intense 
and sudden emotion takes possession of him when 
he has to announce anyone to the manager, or to 
tell the latter he is wanted on the telephone. In 
especial, contact with the manager makes him feel 
absolutely incapable. 

In our first interview I asked Marcel to relate to 
me any reminiscences of childhood which might oc- 
cur to him spontaneously. Here were the first 
memories to arise. 

I (when he was about 8 years old). Marcel had 
broken a bolt on the front door. His father noticed 
it when he came home to dinner. He seized the child 
by the nape of the neck and the legs and threatened 
to throw him into the cesspool. 



232 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

II. Whenever his father spoke rather loudly, Marcel 
was terribly startled. He could not do his school work 
when his father was there. — ^Walking one day in the 
town with his father, he tried to read the name of the 
street they were in, and made a mistake; he read 
* 'Etudes " instead of the real name; his father scolded 
him severely. 

Marcel went on to say that the fear which, in 
childhood, he had felt for his father, was what he 
had subsequently felt during his term of military 
service, and still later in the case of his superiors 
at the office. Thus spontaneously, knowing nothing 
of the psychological theories involved, he grasped 
the nature of the affective transference which dom- 
inated his whole life. Originally he had been afraid 
of his father; later this fear had been transferred 
to all the persons who wielded over him an author- 
ity analogous to paternal authority. 

We should carefully note that he was unable to 
do his school work when his father was present. 
Moreover, it is extremely significant that the mem- 
ory of a scolding from his father should be linked 
with the word *^ etude.'' We realise now that, in 
the transference, office work has been substituted 
for school work, just as the head clerk has been sub- 
stituted for the father. We glimpse a relationship 
between the difficulty of school work in former days 
when the father was present, and the difficulty of 
office work nowadays when the head clerk is pres- 
ent; and between the father's anger on account of 
a broken bolt, and the exaggerated anxiety Marcel 
feels as to whether he has locked up the office. 



ATTITUDE TOWARDS THE PARENTS 233 

I gave the subject a summary explanation of these 
facts. I enabled Mm to realise that in bis subcon- 
scious, whenever a superior was present, he con- 
tinued to believe himself the child whom his father 
would scold. Then we had a first sitting of auto- 
suggestion. 

I saw Marcel a week later. He had noted an im- 
provement from the fourth day after our first inter- 
view. When he locks a door now, he says to him- 
self : *^I am locking it, I have locked it," and he 
has no need to verify the fact. When adding up 
figures in the head clerk's presence he no longer 
feels stiff with fear. 

He told me his earliest memory of childhood. 

III (4 years old). He had taken a basket which 
he had been forbidden to touch. He fell and cut his 
forehead. 

The father does not appear in this reminiscence, 
but there is the feeling of disobedience punished, 
the state of mind of a child who has been told, 
**God has punished you." Then he went on to re- 
late a dream of a fall when bicycling, and this dream 
revived a forgotten memory of childhood. 

IV (about 12 years old). He fell from a bicycle. — 
His father did not like to see him riding a bicycle. 

In the subject's mind, the last reflection appeared 
to be closely linked to the actual memory of the 
fall. The father had not been there to punish, but 



234 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

he disapproved, and it seemed to the child that the 
fall had been an indirect punishment. It was not 
the father; it was (if we may use the terminology 
of the psychoanalytical school) the * 'paternal 
imago'' which punished. 

We should note also that in this case, as in the 
case of the basket (III), the indirect punishment 
was a fall; and that in another reminiscence (I) the 
father had threatened to throw his son into a cess- 
pool. From our experience in other cases we know 
that images of falling and of defilement are gen- 
erally the outcome of a condensation formed around 
a sentiment of moral lapse and of defilement. This 
gives us a clue, though we are not yet in a position 
to follow it up. 

The following associations were called up by the 
image of the bicycle. 

Three things which go very quickly. — A barrel. — 
Children rolling down a bank. — A swing. 

These associations do not, per se, teach us much 
more than that there is an idea of rapid descent. 
We know, however, that sensations of rapid descent, 
and also the sensation of being in a swing, are 
closely akin to voluptuous (sexual) sensations, and 
we may expect to see once more the common rela- 
tionship between such sensations and the feeling of 
shame. But despite the great probability that this 
relationship exists in any particular case, it is wiser 
to say nothing positive about the matter until the 



ATTITUDE TOWARDS THE PARENTS 235 

hypothesis has been confirmed by the subject's asso- 
ciations/ 
Marcel went on to tell me the following dream : 

V. He dreamed about his dog. There were some 
burglars ; he wanted to set the dog on them ; the animal, 
which is usually very obedient, refused to budge; 
thereupon Marcel gave it a beating. 

The associations were as follows : 

To set the dog at tJiem. To catch, to seize, to bite, 
*'I shall have time to get there, I thought I knew the 
burglars.*' 

The dog's disobedience, **I thought of beating it." 

Burglars. Burglars caught in the act, taking to 
flight; people running away and looking over their 
shoulders. 

To beat. A gnarled stick. 

A gnarled stick. * * What every man has, ' ' the penis. 

The last association, perfectly spontaneous, is 
valuable when coming from a man of mediocre at- 
tainments who has no knowledge of psychoanalytical 
theories, and who has had absolutely no suggestion 
of the kind from me. Such an association does not 
of course entitle us to assert, as some are inclined to 

^I lay stress on the need for caution in this respect. To 
doctrinaire psychoanalysts, such caution will doubtless appear 
superfluous; but I regard it as an essential methodological rule 
in so delicate a sphere, and in one where investigators have not 
always been careful to avoid seductive hypotheses and facile gen- 
eralisations. 



236 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

assert, that the image of a stick is a fixed symbol 
of the penis; but it certainly shows that there is a 
definite relationship between the two images. 

Again, Marcel told me the following reminiscence. 
Like that of the broken bolt, it dated from the time 
when he was about eight years old. 

VI. Some neighbours had a Great Dane. Marcel 
was on his way back from an errand. When he saw 
the dog he was frightened and ran away. The dog 
jumped at him and tore his pinafore. 

The symbol of tearing is often akin to that of 
defilement; this general relationship is in accord 
with the particular instance. We see, moreover, 
that the dog calls up the real episode of a fright, 
which may have had, qua fright, an influence upon 
the subject's psyche. But there is more than this in 
the matter. The *^ burglars'' in dream V are shown 
by the associations to be symbolic of something done 
on the sly, something blameworthy which people 
are caught doing. The association of ** stick" con- 
firms the notion that we have to do with sexual 
shame. 

The subject went on to tell me of another dream. 

VII. He was being chased by some men. He had a 
tight feeling in the throat so that he could not make a 
sound. The anxiety was intense. There were two 
men. One had come in by the door ; the other was hid- 
den under the bed. After talking the matter over, 
they decided to kill Marcel. The man who had come 
in by the door was tall, and was rather like Marcel; 



ATTITUDE TOWARDS THE PARENTS 237 

this was the one who wanted to kill Marcel ; he had a 
coarse, unkempt beard. The other, without speaking, 
seemed to say: ''What^s the good of killing himT' 
This was a short man with a square head and frizzy- 
hair. He reminded Marcel of some one in real life, 
* * a good chap, but inclined to run after the girls. ' ' 

When asked about *^ under the bed," Marcel 
thought of the following things. 

Waiting. — Hiding, and afraid of being seen. — At 
school they had played at ghosts. — His parents had 
been superstitious and had talked about ghosts before 
him. 

These ghost stories, like the attack by the dog 
just recorded, had doubtless contributed to the 
child's timorousness. Here, likewise, deeper in- 
fluences are at work. The impression of *^ hiding 
and afraid of being seen'' is akin to the symbol of 
the * * burglars. ' ' Once more we have a blameworthy 
and shameful action. Moreover, the man hidden 
under the bed is a symbol of the sexual man. He 
is indulgent, let us say morally indulgent; whereas 
the other, standing up face to face and resembling 
the conscious personality of the subject, is merci- 
less. Here are indications of a conflict, as usual in 
anxiety states. 

The associations to the image of **a tight feeling 
in the throat" are extremely significant. The sub- 
ject thinks of a clasping, of hands drawing near. 
The ** hands," in their turn, promptly call up large 
hands, Ms own, and, without transition, masturha- 



238 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

tion — a spontaneous association which surprises the 
subject. This immediately calls up his father's say- 
ings and threats relative to the practice of mastur- 
bation, so that at length we have a clear indication 
of what kind of shameful act is in question. We 
are brought in touch with a crisis through which so 
many adolescents have to pass, one whose momen- 
tousness is commonly aggravated by brutal threats. 
At the word ''anxiety," new and important asso- 
ciations appear. Some of them such as a spasm of 
anguish (serrement de cceur), being clasped (etre 
serre), confirm the comparison of this anxiety to 
the impression of a tight feeling in the throat {etre 
serre a la gorge) — and all we have just discerned 
behind this impression. Here are some other asso- 
ciations : 

Feeling of powerlessness. — Peeling (in the dream) 
of being unable to call his wife. — * ' If my mother dies, 
what will happen? This thought makes me sick of 
life/' 

Here is an indication of fondness for the mother, 
a fondness which is often connected with hostility 
to the father. In Marcel, however, the negative 
element of the ''CEdipus complex" (hostility to the 
father) would seem to be more important than the 
positive element (love of the mother). When I en- 
quired about his parents, he gave me additional sig- 
nificant details. 

VIII. He once dreamed that he saw his father dead ; 
**it was all over.'' (He expressed no regret.) 



ATTITUDE TOWARDS THE PARENTS 239 

At an earlier date, before his marriage, he dreamed 
that his mother was dead. He has had this dream 
again, since his marriage. The dream aroused **a 
terrible spasm of anguish/* unaccompanied by tears. 
Moreover, during the dream, he reproached himself; 
he might have been a better man; he was responsible. 

What follows is extremely typical. 

He recalled having had as a child a conscious wish 
(instantly repressed, of course) that his father might 
die. 

To-day he sometimes feels the wish to die before his 
mother, so that he may not have to witness her death. 
This has come especially since he has been married and 
separated from her. 

When he was a child, he had looked upon his father 
as the adversary. Feeling himself incapable of over- 
coming this adversary, he had the impression of ** re- 
treating before him." 

This retreat is preeminently the attitude of 
timidity. As for the hostility to the father, we re- 
garded this at first as a revolt against brutal 
authority. Now, however, it appears, though less 
frankly, to be likewise associated with his fondness 
for his mother. Obviously, then, jealousy is a con- 
stituent factor. 

On the other hand the idea of the mother is more 
than once associated with the idea of the wife. In 
the associations of dream VII, the subject has a 
'^feeling of being unable to call his wife,'' and he 
promptly goes on to ask himself what will happen 
**if my mother dies." Then, speaking of dreams in 
which he pictures his mother as dead, he finds it 



240 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

necessary to locate them as '^before marriage" and 
** after marriage." Marriage is the decisive date 
at which he was separated from his mother, but the 
need for the mother remains strong; he is afraid 
that his mother will die, and the fear is all the more 
intense because he cannot ^*call his wife"; he is 
unable to look to his wife for deliverance from his 
anguish. He retains the infantile attitude of look- 
ing to his mother for help. 

We know, moreover, that fondness for the mother 
(the (Edipus complex) may lead to the repression 
of sexuality. But the subject tells me, in addition, 
of a positive cause for repression, and for scruples. 
He had related an erotic dream. 

IX. The woman in the dream resembled his wife, 
but was rather red in the face and was fatter than his 
wife. 

Questioning him concerning this dream, I learned 
that his wife was often ailing. Being himself in- 
spired by strict religious and moral principles, and 
wishing to lead a very regular conjugal life, he had 
imposed upon himself, for this reason, a consider- 
able degree of continence. His dream would there- 
fore seem unmistakably to have been an imaginary 
realisation of a repressed wish ; but the scrupulosity 
of his character made him blame himself for it, and 
for all similar thoughts. (I reassured him by tell- 
ing him that it was perfectly normal, and that no 
one could be held accountable for dreams and invol- 
untary thoughts.) The repression and the scruples 
doubtless played their part in producing the anxiety 



ATTITUDE TOWARDS THE PARENTS 241 

dream (VII) ; another factor was resistance to the 
possible temptations of masturbation. Anxiety is, 
in fact, often connected with such repressions and 
conflicts. The feeling, in the dream, of inability to 
call his wife, may correspond to the continence im- 
posed upon him by his wife's ailments. But, quite 
apart from this contingent positive significance, the 
dream is of great value to us for the light it throws 
upon the general determinants of the subject's psy- 
chic life. 

One who sees sex everywhere, a '^pansexualist," 
being aware of the importance of shame that is sex- 
ual in its origins, and being informed in this case 
of the father's threats concerning masturbation, 
would attribute everything to these factors, and 
would use them to explain all the imagery in the 
subject's mind. He would discover sex, and noth- 
ing but sex, in the reminiscences of disobedience, 
insisting that the bolt (I) and the basket (III) were 
merely symbols of the penis; that the two wheels 
of the bicycle (VI) represented the testicles; and so 
on. Although it is likely enough that, in virtue of 
condensation, the memories of these incidents may 
contain sexual allusions, I consider that an exclu- 
sively sexual explanation would be erroneous. It 
seems to me indubitable, that, on the one hand, the 
real incidents which form the kernel of the conscious 
memories, and, on the other hand, the subject's gen- 
eral dread of paternal authority, must also have 
had their importance as determinants; and I do 
not think that we are entitled to regard all this as 
purely ^^ symbolic" of something else. It is unduly. 



242 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

venturesome to assert thus categorically that one of 
the elements of a condensation, one of the least 
obvious elements, is the only important one. 

The subject ^s characteristics appear to me plain 
enough: fondness for the mother, protest (a timor- 
ous protest) against the father; shame of sexual 
origin, connected with the father 's threats regarding 
masturbation. The subject's shamefacedness, his 
dread of making mistakes, and his excessive scrupu- 
losity, were the outcome of these factors. 

A cure was effected after seven sittings, once a 
week at first, and subsequently at longer intervals. 
Each time, the analysis was followed by autosug- 
gestion. It will be remembered that Marcel noted 
an improvement as early as the fourth day; during 
the second week he was aware of ^* great activity''; 
in the fourth week a feeling of alarm he had hitherto 
always had when going down into the cellar had 
disappeared. During the sixth week the idea of 
autosuggesting *^I shall no longer be able to be 
timid" spontaneously occurred to him; during the 
seventh week he became convinced that his timidity 
had been eradicated. During the ninth week he con- 
sidered that he was becoming *^a trifle aggressive." 
I kept him under observation for three years. 

3. Otto 

Ebpeessed Vibility. Awkwardness and Constraint. 
A Philosophic Trend. 

Otto, a man of forty-three, suffers from a per- 
petual feeling of awkwardness and constraint. He 



ATTITUDE TOWARDS THE PARENTS 243 

finds it difficult to express himself. He says that 
he lacks ease, spontaneity, and readiness. Unaided, 
however, he has been practising autosuggestion with 
very good effect. He came to consult me in the 
hope that psychoanalysis would contribute to his 
progress. 

He was the youngest of a large family. His 
mother had told him that his coming had not been 
altogether welcome. Nevertheless, she had always 
been affectionate, and even indulgent. The father 
was kindly and well educated ; he could read Latin ; 
the farmers of the countryside nick-named him * * the 
professor." Before learning to write. Otto used 
to scribble imaginary notes on the margin of books 
because he had seen his father make notes there. 
The father was wont to say : * * This lad has a future 
before him." 

When he was about twelve, Otto read an essay 
by Schopenhauer upon duelling, in which the phi- 
losopher described an insult as a matter of no mo- 
ment, and said that to take vengeance by killing the 
offender seemed disproportionate. Subsequently 
Schopenhauer became Otto's favourite author, and 
Otto adopted Schopenhauer's pessimist philosophy. 
*^I read too much Schopenhauer," he said. He also 
read Helvetius. In poetry, he had a passion for 
Catulle Mendes. 

An intelligent workman, he was self-taught. His 
mind was formed, without any methodical instruc- 
tion, by chance reading. 

Up to the age of twenty he exhibited a certain 
tendency towards fetichism for women's clothing. 



244 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

Then he went in for the ** simple life,'' lived whole- 
somely, avoiding stimulants and excitement of all 
kinds; the fetichist tendency disappeared. For a 
long time he was extremely timid; he had no ex- 
perience of sexual intercourse until he was twenty- 
two. 

Otto gave me the foregoing sketch of his history 
at our first interview. Then he told me a reminis- 
cence of childhood. 

I. He had been given a hen canary, *'one that did 
not sing. ' ' Otto, feeling sorry for the bird, had set it 
at liberty. Then he had been told that the canary 
would perish in freedom. Every evening, for a whole 
week, he suffered from ** remorse after he went to bed. " 

Questioning upon this reminiscence evoked the 
following responses: 

Canary. A canary in his lodging. He says to him- 
self: '*Why do people keep birds in cages?" He 
thinks it a cruel practice. If Schopenhauer influenced 
him, it was probably because this philosopher's teach- 
ings harmonised with his own natural tender-hearted- 
ness. 

Hen canary, A remuiiscence from the age of 
twenty. Some swallows had built their nest in the 
billiard room of the restaurant. The hen swallow used 
to sit upon her nestlings, while the father bird spent 
the night outside the house. Otto's sister, an out- 
spoken girl, said: *'He can't sleep with his wife, for 
there are too many people about." Coming back to 
the question of being tender-hearted, he says that this 



ATTITUDE TOWARDS THE PARENTS 24.5 

compassionate trend disappeared from the time lie was 
twenty until he was twenty-five. During this inter- 
lude, he had a craze for shooting, but now, once more, 
shooting had become distasteful. 

One that did not sing. As a child. Otto used to sing. 
Now he has lost the power. Speaking of instru- 
mental music he says: ''In this respect I have retained 
my spontaneity.'' But if people begin to sing when 
he is playing the piano, it ** irritates" him. He likes 
to hear a woman singing, but not a man. Singing 
sounds to him like ' ' bellowing, ' ' unless it is very good. 
His eldest brother used to sing. 

The canary will perish. If the bird should die, it 
would be all the better off. The pessimist philosophy. 

Remorse after going to hed. Insomnia. Anxiety. 
Otto used to suffer a good deal from sleeplessness ; this 
trouble began when he was two-and- twenty (simul- 
taneously with his first experience of sexual relations), 
and he did not become free from it until four years 
ago. He had wanted to lead an ascetic life, being 
influenced in this respect by Schopenhauer. At first 
his sexual experiences had only been with professional 
prostitutes, for he had been too timid to try his luck 
elsewhere. Only two months ago had he dared to do 
this for the first time, so that his sexual life now 
seemed to him more normal. He considered that tho 
change had been brought about by autosuggestion. 

The broad lines thus became manifest at the first 
sitting : repression of virility, closely linked with the 
repression of spontaneity, with lack of *'ease.'' 
Singing, a man's singing, is a symbol both of the 
virility and of the spontaneity; the disappearance 
of the faculty for singing which Otto had possessed 



246 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

in childhood is connected with the general repres- 
sion; it indicates a loss of spontaneity. When ex- 
plaining that he remains able to play the piano, he 
says: **In this respect I have retained my spon- 
taneity/' His eldest brother, who for him sym- 
bolises virility, used to sing; what Otto finds dis- 
tasteful in singing is the male voice. 

We see that the subject is an * introvert." He is 
attracted by Schopenhauer because he rediscovers 
his own nature in that philosopher. The combative 
instinct is repressed as well as the sexual instinct. 
We observe such tendencies as are common in indi- 
viduals of this type : a trend towards sympathy with 
all living beings ; one towards pantheist metaphysics ; 
one towards the renunciation of life, an aspiration 
towards non-entity. 

We can likewise catch a glimpse of what seems 
to be usual in these cases : attachment to the mother, 
a sort of homesickness for the mother, the longing 
to be * incubated'' (the mother bird sits upon the 
nestlings; the father bird is thrust out). It seems 
possible that the metaphysical aspiration towards 
non-entity may be linked with fantasies of a return 
to the womb. The subject is fond of dwelling on 
the idea that his mother did not welcome him into 
the world. 

The hen canary, which does not sing and which 
is in a cage, symbolises repressed virility and intro- 
version. The setting of it at liberty corresponds 
with Otto's first contact with the sexual life and 
with ^*the world." The remorse he felt after giv- 
ing the bird its freedom corresponds with the mental 



ATTITUDE TOWARDS THE PARENTS 247 

distress ensuing upon his first experiences of this 
kind. 

During the second week of the analysis, Otto had 
the following dream: 

II. He said to his father: *'The needles are in one 
of the drawers of my desk.'' They were needles for 
darning socks. Really, there was nothing in the 
drawer except papers and newspaper cuttings which 
he intended to send to his brother. 

Commentary through associations. 

Father. My father was a very good shot. 

Needles. An embroidered handkerchief. Needle- 
work. 

Brother. The brother is bellicose, and favours the 
German side. Otto takes the opposite view, and is 
pacifist. The drawer is full of newspaper cuttings 
bearing upon discussions Otto has had with his brother, 
cuttings which Otto was going to send him; but the 
war broke out. Otto recalls a dispute which, when a 
child, he had had with this brother, the eldest of the 
family. Otto had wanted to keep his long locks; his 
brother had scolded him, and wanted to take him to 
the hair-dresser. 

He also remembers a country excursion he had made 
with his brother and some other young folk. He was 
then twelve or thirteen years old. They had chaffed 
him, and he had run away all by himself. He had 
tried to find his way home through the wood and had 
lost himself. 

Barmng. Making up a quarrel. The adage which 



248 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

says that yon must qnarrel before you can make it up. 
Socks. Ladies' summer stockings. The old fetich- 
ist tendency. 

What does all this signify? The father and the 
elder brother symbolise virility. The combative in- 
stinct (a good shot, a bellicose pro-German) repre- 
sents virility. Whereas his father is a good shot, 
Otto hates shooting. The disputes with the brother 
represent a repudiation of virility. This repudia- 
tion has led Otto to cultivate certain feminine char- 
acteristics : long hair, for instance ; and he quarrels 
with his brother because the latter has wished him 
to have his hair cut short and thus make him manly. 
But what is in question to-day is, a symbolical recon- 
ciliation with the ** brother,'' that is to say witli 
virility; what is in question is, a return to the 
'^father." This will be at one and the same time a 
** making it up" and an acceptance of sexuality. As 
concerns this matter. Otto explains that he is still 
affected by an irrational resistance to sexuality, a 
resistance which entails quarrels with his mistress. 
He always feels regretful after the sexual act. 

The incident of the country excursion likewise 
draws our attention to the frequent relationship be- 
tween repressed virility and maladaptation to social 
life, to camaraderie. This maladaptation tends to 
increase the desire for solitude, the longing to with- 
draw into oneself. 

Otto sent me three dreams he had recorded in 
writing. 



ATTITUDE TOWARDS THE PARENTS 249 

III. The other evening, when I came home after 
visiting my mistress, I felt greatly touched in recalling 
how sweet she had been. . . . That same night I 
dreamed that, notwithstanding my protests, my father 
was absolutely determined to come and live with me. 
My father is eighty years old. 

VI. I find myself in A. square in front of the M. 
restaurant. There were some acrobats with a singing 
monkey. At the end of the song, by which I was 
greatly surprised, they took off a sort of hood the 
monkey had over his head, and lo and behold it was a 
man. 

V. I found myself in a barber X and I had myself 
shaved by Monsieur Baudouin, who then attended me 
to the door, saying: **Come back again for psycho- 
analysis/' 

Apropos of III, the subject recalls that when he 
was coming away from his mistress' house he had 
wondered to himself: *^will she manage to change 
meT' [To make an extrovert of him.] He had 
had a cough, and she had made him some lichen tea. 
To this there were the following associations : 

Medicinal herbs. — There is a family tendency to 
throat troubles. — One of his brothers had been in- 
valided from the army for goitre. 

The father represents virility, extroversion. 
Virility now wishes to come into its own, although 
the subject still resists. The throat trouble, which 
recalls the difficulty of singing (I), represents in- 
complete virility. The subject expects his mistress 
to exercise a quasi-magical influence over him, to 



250 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

give him a *^ medicinal herb'' which will take him 
out of himself. 

The second dream signifies a protest against one 
form of virility and extroversion, the crude and 
coarse form which can never satisfy a man in^e Otto, 
who is a person of advanced moral and intellectual 
development. M. restaurant and A. square are in 
the centre of the prostitutes' quarter. Apropos of 
the monkey, the subject thinks of his dislike for 
singing, which he styles ^^ absurd" in the mouth of 
a monkey or of a man. He is also reminded that 
Schopenhauer regards the imitative instinct as a 
vestige of our simian descent. 

For his own part, he has always been careful not to 
be imitative. At one time of his life he was accus- 
tomed to say to himself ev^^ry morning: ** Don't da 
what other people do." 

This is the individualism of the introvert. 

In V, Otto expresses his attitude towards analysis 
and the analyst. I am ** shaving" him and not anal- 
ysing him. At the outset of an analysis which has 
not yet been thoroughly accepted, the subject's sub- 
conscious is apt to excogitate some such grip in 
order to depreciate the analyst. On the other hand, 
apropos of the barber's shop. Otto is reminded that 
his mistress was at one time a ladies' hairdresser. 
He still thinks that his determination to shave was 
(consciously) the outcome of the influence of 
Schopenhauer's aesthetic ideas. Subconsciously, 
however, there has been operative the same desire 
for femininity which had formerly made him wish 



ATTITUDE TOWARDS THE PARENTS 251 

to retain his long locks. In this connection he recalls 
an old love affair. His inamorata ** wanted an ef- 
feminate man," and she cut off his moustache. 

We might suppose that in V the subject is as- 
suming a feminine attitude towards the analyst, 
and that this might indicate the beginnings of 
** transference on to the analyst." In any case, we 
must point out that the images relating to the anal- 
ysis are strangely contiguous to the images relating 
to love. From love and from the analysis the sub- 
ject expects what he terms '^a cure"; that is to say, 
the victory which will give him extroversion and 
*'ease." 

I had enabled him to recognise in himself the 
existence of the tendency towards femininity, and 
it was at this juncture that he brought me three 
quotations, extremely significant — ^passages by which 
he had been greatly struck when he had read them 
in earlier days. 

Prom Catulle Mendes, Pour lire an hain: '*What 
other poet is so feminine as the divine Amarou, whose 
soul had lived in the body of a hundred women?** 

From Han Ryner (one of Otto's favourite authors), 
Le manuel individualist e: "Seneca speaks of Epi- 
curus as a hero disguised as a woman. * ' 

From La Bruyere, Caraceres: ''I have known more 
than one person who, from thirteen to twenty-two, 
wanted to be a girl, a pretty girl, and then to become 



The third of these quotations is peculiarly sig- 
nificant, inasmuch as it was at the age of twenty- 



252 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

two that the subject had his first experience of nor- 
mal sexual relations. 

VI. One evening, when Otto came away from his 
mistress, he was thinldng about his own pecuniary posi- 
tion, which did not allow him to support her on the 
scale he would have liked. — That night he dreamed 
that Prance had gone bankrupt; French money was 
now worthless; consequently, he had lost 300 marks. 
— He went for a walk in the woods with a friend. 
They found an inn there; an orchestra was playing 
Viennese music, his favourite music. 

France is a symbol for his mistress, who is a 
Frenchwoman. The psychoanalyst is also of French 
nationality, and there is probably a similar conden- 
sation to that which occurred in dream V. It fol- 
lows that *^the bankruptcy of France'' may be looked 
upon as a new way of depreciating me. 

The 300 marks have been lent to a friend in Ger- 
many, and Otto is afraid that he will never see them 
again. It is a feeling rather than a fact that his 
material situation is not good enough for his mis- 
tress ; we have to interpret the feeling symbolically ; 
it betokens his imperfect adaptation to love and to 
life. In addition, France, for him, symbolises 
**ease." The whole thing bears on his customary 
preoccupations. 

A little further on, fresh problems come into view. 
Here are the associations of the second part of the 
dream. 

Going for a vmlh. Otto once lent his mistress a 
book by Catulle Mendes containing the story of 



ATTITUDE TOWARDS THE PARENTS 253 

** Theresa's SMft" (Theresa, a convert, goes on a 
pilgrimage to a place where in earlier days she had 
thrown away her shift, feeling she conld not be 
bothered with it any longer. She is given a relic to 
kiss, a relic which is supposed to have fallen from 
heaven, and she recognises her own shift). Otto recalls 
a walk with his mistress. They entered a Catholic 
church. He is fond of the mysticism of Catholic 
churches. 

The woods. In the region where Otto was born 
there is a forest known as Heilige Hallen. (The 
name calls up religious ideas.) Schopenhauer men- 
tions this forest as having given him an impression of 
the sublime. 

Inn. The inn in the Place de la Madeleine where the 
post-chaises used to pull up. 

Post-chaise. A picture postcard. Lovers in the 
days of the old regime. They are in a post-chaise 
driving through a splendid forest; Cupid is the pos- 
tillion. 

Madeleine. Someone who had sent him an invitation 
to a religious conference at the Madeleine. He did not 
go. He has been disgusted by religion because it is in 
the hands of ''exploiters." 

Orchestra. The Hofkirche in Dresden. An or- 
chestra ''playing some of Bach's fugues." — When Otto 
was apprenticed, the bell-ringers had taken him up into 
the belfry. He was frightened, and said to himself: 
*'If they wanted to kill me here, I shouldn't have a 
chance." He had "a horrid drumming in the ears." 
All that these fellows had really wanted was a 
tip. 

Viennese music. His brother, who plays the piano 
very well. 



254 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

Apropos of the ** Viennese music" we may like- 
wise note here that this had turned up previously 
in the association to dream IV, in connection with 
the monkey and the acrobats. Otto had said he was 
fond of Viennese music '4n thirds.'' But he wants 
**both voices''; he is **not satisfied with the melody 
by itself." He added that Viennese music seemed 
to him to be Germano-Slav. A little later he re- 
marked that his mother was of German race, but 
his father was **a Polish immigrant." Finally he 
said that he was fond of the Viennese, who were com- 
paratively subtle (rather like the French) ; he did 
not care for the North Germans. 

We are now enabled to understand what are the 
two voices to which he refers, and which he wants 
to have in Viennese music. These two voices are 
within himself; they represent the mother and the 
father respectively. We grasp the significance of 
various terms polarised round these two ideas of 
the mother and the father. On the side of the 
** mother" we have Germany and introversion; on 
the side of the * ^father" we have the Slav and the 
Frenchman, the foreigner, extroversion. The terms 
grouped round either pole are interchangeable, and 
serve to symbolise one another. 

Symbolically, Otto experiences the desire for the 
**father." — He is not satisfied with the melody by 
itself, the melody representing the higher pitched 
voice, a woman's voice. And yet he does not wish 
to achieve complete extroversion. He needs **both 
voices"; he wants to fulfil his whole nature, and 
has no idea of renouncing himself. 



ATTITUDE TOWARDS THE PARENTS 255 

All this throws light on the last dream. Origi- 
nally Otto had religious aspirations; in the termi- 
nology of the psychoanalytical school, his repressed 
instincts underwent a religious sublimation. He 
was, however, ** disgusted' ' with religion because it 
seemed to him a form of ** exploitation." In the 
associations to the dream we find two symbols for 
this idea of exploitation: Theresa's shift; and the 
bell-ringers who are on the look out for a tip. Be- 
sides, both Theresa and Madeleine [Magdalen] are 
converted sinners ; they embody the idea of the sub- 
limation of instinct. But this sublimation culmi- 
nates in disillusionment. Theresa's experience 
shows her the fraud underlying what is supposed to 
be a relic. In like manner. Otto discerns the ** ex- 
ploitation" which he believes to underlie religion. 
There then occurs in him a phenomenon to which 
psychoanalysts have not hitherto paid sufficient at- 
tention, the repression of a sublimated instinct. In 
this case, it is the repression of the religious senti- 
ment. Schopenhauer then becomes a substitute for 
religion. A phrase of Schopenhauer's concerning 
the forest, the *'Holy Precincts [Heilige Hallen]," 
represents a transition from the religious sentiment 
to the philosophical sentiment. 

To-day, however, Schopenhauer in his turn is be- 
ing subjected to critical examination. Otto has 
learned the danger of pessimism, and he has an 
aspiration towards life. Ought he, then, unhesitat- 
ingly to throw himself into life, into extroversion? 
No. * * France has gone bankrupt. " * * Both voices ' ' 
are essential. Otto cannot renounce sublimation ; he 



256 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

cannot repudiate that which philosophy, the inner 
life, individualism, have brought to him. Hence 
there is a crisis, which the dream expresses, and at- 
tempts to solve. 

The image of his mistress is then condensed into 
a walk towards a church; the post-chaise of which 
Cupid is the postillion drives through a *^ splendid 
forest" like the one which had aroused the admira- 
tion of Schopenhauer and Otto. In a word, the 
images of love fuse with those of religion and of the 
** sublime." The coarser forms of sexuality (the 
monkey and the acrobats) have become impossible 
henceforward. Otto needs a love which can satisfy 
his spiritual aspirations, one in which ^^both voices" 
are present. 

The analysis of this dream seems to have marked 
a decisive stage. Hitherto Otto had been inclined 
to fear that the *^cure" would demand from him a 
repudiation of the inner life and an acceptance of 
crude instinct. It was natural, therefore, that he 
should feel a certain repulsion towards the method 
and towards the **cure" itself. He has now come 
to understand that no such demand will be made 
of him. 

Here we have another dream stressing the disgust 
with which sexuality inspires him. 

VII. I go into a little room, one well known to me, 
in the house where I was born. Some ladies are seated 
round a table in this room . . . doiag needlework. 
In their midst is a Frenchwoman. ... A detail: In 
the room there is a privy. 



ATTITUDE TOWARDS THE PARENTS 257 

Here we again encounter the ** Frenchwoman, '* 
and also the * 'needles" of dream II; we already 
know their significance. The repulsive side is 
bluntly expressed by the sjmibol of the '* privy.'' 
Furthermore, as so often happens, the disgust is 
linked with fear. Apropos of this dream, Otto re- 
calls the following memories of childhood : 

"When he was eleven years old, Otto had stayed out 
late for a lark. The door of the room he saw in the 
dream had been locked against him. Not being able 
to get in, he had been seized with panic. 

TVTien he was seven years old, he was in the passage 
near the same room. . . . One of his sisters had said 
**bo'* to frighten him. He was very timid in those 
days, and had been scared. 

We will continue the analysis by a brief study of 
some of the works of art which have made a great 
impression on Otto. 

Associations to an engraving by Ludwig Richter, 
Little Red Riding Hood in the Forest, leads us to 
an image of an **old witch." Then comes the figure 
of his maternal grandmother, of whom he had been 
very fond just as he was of his mother. He always 
ran to his mother directly dinner was finished, and 
everyone made fun of him for this. The reminis- 
cence shows very well how his fondness for his 
mother made him ridiculous in society, just as we 
have seen that he was a butt when on a country 
excursion with other young folk (II). Flight to the 
mother and flight to solitude are akin. 

Next we come to one of Grimm's tales, The Wolf 



258 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

and the Seven Little Kids. This story, one which 
Otto was fond of reading as a child, is like Eed 
Eiding Hood in many respects. The wolf eats the 
little kids, just as the wolf-grandmother eats the 
little girl. The ''woU,'' a cousin of the *^ witch" 
and of the ** grandmother," appears in Otto's sub- 
conscious as a symbol of what has been called the 
** dread mother," a symbol of the introversion which 
swallows like an abyss. In the little girl, or the 
little kids, eaten by the wolf, we have a fantasy of 
return to the mother 's womb. Otto also recalls that 
the wolf in Grimm's tale had whitened its paw and 
had eaten a great lump of chalk to ** soften its voice." 
This brings us again into touch with the fantasies 
anent singing (I). Otto is careful to point out that, 
in the tale, the goat rips up the wolf and the little 
kids reappear; the introversion is not irremediable. 

Similar results were secured with another of 
Grimm's tales, *^ Snow-Drop," or *' Little Snow- 
White." 

All this part of the analysis confirms the existence 
of a strong ** maternal complex," linked to the re- 
pression of virility. The complex has the well- 
known characteristics. 

When I had questioned him about these works of 
art, it spontaneously occurred to Otto to bring me a 
page from Schopenhauer's writings, a passage by 
which he had been greatly struck, and which he had 
read and re-read. He showed me his own French 
translation of the extract. [The standard English 
version runs as follows :] 



ATTITUDE TOWARDS THE PARENTS 259 

Because beauty accompanied with grace is the prin- 
cipal object of sculpture, it loves nakedness, and al- 
lows clothing only in so far as it does not conceal the 
form. . . . 

I may be allowed, in passing, to insert here a com- 
parison that is very pertinent to the arts we are discuss- 
ing. It is this: as the beautiful bodily form is seen 
to the greatest advantage when clothed in the lightest 
way, or indeed without any clothing at all, and there- 
fore a very handsome man, if he had also taste and the 
courage to follow it, would go about almost naked, 
clothed only after the manner of the ancients ; so every- 
one who possesses a beautiful and rich mind will al- 
ways express himself in the most natural, direct, and 
simple way, concerned, if it be possible, to com- 
municate his thoughts to others, and thus relieve the 
loneliness that he must feel in such a world as this. 
And conversely, poverty of mind, confusion, and per- 
versity of thought, will clothe itself in the most far- 
fetched expressions and the obscurest forms of speech, 
in order to wrap up in difficult and pompous phrase- 
ology small, trifling, insipid, or commonplace thoughts ; 
like a man who has lost the majesty of beauty, and, 
trying to make up for the deficiency by means of cloth- 
ing, seeks to hide the insignificancy or ugliness of his 
person under barbaric finery, tinsel, feathers, ruffles, 
cuffs, and mantles. . . / 

This man whose beauty is perfect, and who would 
prefer to go nude, is associated in Otto's mind with 
a statue of Apollo in the Uffizi Gallery at Florence 

^ The World as Will and Idea, by Arthur Schopenhauer, trans- 
lated from the German by R. B. Haldane and J. Kemp Triibner, 
London, 1883, vol. i., p. 296. [Book III, $ 47.] 



260 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

(he showed me a photograph of it). These two im- 
pressions have engendered in him a concrete vision. 

''It is," he said, ''a vision of what may be called 
a free and noble ease of manner." 

The last words lead us to an aphorism from the 
old Spanish book translated by Schopenhauer, 
Baltasar Gracian's El oraculo manual y arte de 
prudencia, a system of rules for the conduct of life. 
The title of the aphorism in Schopenhauer's version 
is **Edle freie Unbefangenheit bei Allem/' which 
Otto translates by ''Libre et noble desinvolture" 
[Free and noble ease of manner]. Apropos of this 
"ease of manner," the Spanish author writes: 

"It is the life of talent, the breath of oratory, the 
fionl of action, the ornament of ornaments. All the 
other graces serve to adorn Nature, but this is grace 
itself. It shows itself also in thought. Before all, it 
is a gift of Nature. It owes little to education, for it 
stands above education. 

"It is something more than levity; it is tantamount 
to daring.'* 

In Otto's copy of Schopenhauer's German trans- 
lation, the last phrase had been underlined. 

We perceive the elements out of which his ideal 
of "ease" has been formed. The existence of this 
ideal shows that he has never completely surrendered 
himself to his introversion; that he has always 
wanted to escape from it. Furthermore, the passage 
from Schopenhauer's The World as Will and Idea 



ATTITUDE TOWARDS THE PARENTS 261 

is significant in that it shows how this ^'ease'' of 
thought and expression is associated in Otto's mind 
with the nudity of the human body. This is the tie 
we observed at the outset of the analysis. 

We must note, however, that this ideal, in which 
Otto has objectified his desire to get out of himself, 
is in many respects linked with his introverted state 
of mind. For, first of all, the ideal is grounded 
upon the study of Schopenhauer. Next, the statue 
of the young Apollo has, as Otto himself declared, 
somewhat effeminate characteristics. Here we en- 
counter once more a latent homosexuality, an in- 
clination towards effeminacy. When asked for as- 
sociations with the above-quoted passage from 
Gracian's handbook. Otto produced a phrase from 
Feuchtersleben's Z'ur Didtetik der Seele (Chapter 
III) — the book which made so profound an impres- 
sion upon Carl Spitteler in youth. Here is the 
phrase : 

** Fantasy is feminine by nature. The feminine life 
has more staying power than the masculine life; the 
result may well be . . . greater physical force linked 
with delicacy and purity.'* 

The following reminiscence was another of Otto's 
associations in this connection. He spoke of a 
friend : 

A man extremely orderly, but of a miserly disposi- 
tion. . . . Nevertheless he was fond of good living, 
though it upset his digestion — as so often happens with 
crass materialists. — He had an attack of influenza, was 



262 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

taken to hospital, and at night during the delirium of 
fever he jumped out of the window. Death was in- 
stantaneous. 

A few moments later, Otto made the following 
reflection (in connection with a thought of Schopen- 
hauer's) : 

** Hullo," I think, ** might one not say that greed 
for money, regarded as one of the lower forces of mat- 
ter, ruins the body ? We are told that money leads to 
corruption. Well, just look at the faces of most of our 
profiteers!'' 

We know, through other associations, that the idea 
of money is linked with that of sexuality, of virility. 

We may say that in Otto the trend towards 
effeminacy is even incorporated in his ideal of 
* * ease, ' ' where we discern once more, not a repudia- 
tion, but an equilibrium (the '*two voices"). Here 
the trend towards effeminacy is spiritualised. The 
feminine traits which the subject wishes to cultivate 
in himself are ** purity and delicacy." He also 
aspires towards the peculiar force characteristic of 
the **feminine temperament." He finds its descrip- 
tion, on the one hand in Feuchtersleben, who speaks 
of ** natures woven of ether and moonlight" but 
capable of astounding everyone by their staying 
power, and on the other hand in my own book Sug- 
gestion and Autosuggestion (French original, p. 
115; English translation, p. 138) : 

**In the foregoing pages, the writer has paid his 
tribute to the privileged mental position of certain 



ATTITUDE TOWARDS THE PARENTS 263 

temperaments, women, children, and artists being 
typical of these. It is possible that . . . devotees of 
an overstrained 'positivism' will find his remarks a 
trifle irritating. . . . But it is none the less true that 
the outcropping which is the essential characteristic 
of such temperaments must be cultivated by all who 
desire to avail themselves of the powers of well-con- 
trolled autosuggestion." 

Thus in the very method of re-education, Otto has 
been able to discover a justification for his trend, 
and a way by which it can be guided in a useful direc- 
tion. In autosuggestion, no less than in the Apollo 
of the Ufiizi Gallery, he finds a synthesis of ^^femi- 
ninity'' and *^ease*' — a harmony of the **two 
voices.'' 

In the passage from Gracian, Otto underlined the 
phrase concerning **ease of manner.'' 

It is something more than levity, it is tantamount 
to daring. 

In this connection he tells me that in childhood 
he was at first rather cheeky, but that he subsequently 
grew timid. How did this come about! We are 
helped to understand the change by an interesting 
reminiscence. 

During my apprenticeship I was kept under a some- 
what Prussian discipliae. The first apprentice played 
the part of non-com. One day he and I were carrying 
some pieces of machinery to a big brewery to set them 
up there. The first apprentice, after having explained 



264 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

to me how he was going to carry out the work, said: 
**That ought to go all right!*' I answered that I was 
not so sure, for some unexpected difficulty might crop 
up. 

Our little dispute was reported to the employer's 
son. He told me I was a slacker, and that if I ever 
said anything of the sort when I was working with 
him, he would **give me what for." 

Henceforward I watched my words carefully, so that 
my mother said that I had become tongue-tied. Be- 
sides, I didn't enjoy myself at all in my life as ap- 
prentice. 

The master and the first apprentice would appear 
to have been condensed respectively with Otto's 
father and his eldest brother. ^*That ought to go 
all right'' evoked in Otto the idea of the infringe- 
ment of Belgian neutrality in 1914. 

No doubt our Prussian swashbucklers likewise said 
to themselves: ^'That ought to go all right, to invade 
France through Belgium." 

When the invasion failed to achieve its purpose, 
Otto felt as if he had got even with the first appren- 
tice. 

He recalls also that in the master's house there 
was a canary. He asked whether it was a cock or 
a hen. The question was considered rather indeli- 
cate and this experience made him more and more 
reserved. He was told that the canary could not 
sing because it had grown too fat. 

We have got back to the first motif. To the re- 



ATTITUDE TOWARDS THE PARENTS 265 

pression of virility (in the form of sexuality and 
the combative instinct) there is superadded the in- 
fluence of an authority which recalls the paternal 
authority. No doubt the incidents of his appren- 
ticeship exercised an influence in repressing spon- 
taneity, but this influence would have been much less 
powerful had not the incidents undergone condensa- 
tion with deeper and more secret processes. 

Apropos of the words *^that ought to go all right," 
Otto further notes that this might be called a formula 
of ease. It is also a formula of autosuggestion. And 
this brings us back to the Uffizi Apollo. But here 
the ^* virile '^ side, formerly repressed, is more ap- 
parent; it is a formula of the ^^swashbuckler." 

Otto, then, is an introvert with a philosophic 
trend; he is strongly attached to the mother. The 
awkwardness and constraint, the lack of spontaneity, 
of which he complains, are linked with a general 
refusal of virility and social life. But this same 
refusal has contributed to the development of the 
inner life and of meditation. 

The analysis enabled the subject to dissociate the 
two categories of results ; to rectify the former with- 
out repudiating the latter; to gain a more perfect 
adaptation to external life without renouncing his 
internal conquests. 

The balance and ease which Otto wished to ac- 
quire had been practically attained after the first 
few sittings. He continued the analysis, partly in 
order to gain perfect mastery, and partly because 
the study was interesting to him as a man of philo- 
sophic temperament. 



CHAPTER EIGHT 

THE INSTINCT OF SELF-PRESERVATION, AND THE INSTINCT 
FOR MOTHERHOOD 

Although many people speak of Freud as a **pan- 
sexualist,'' lie has categorically declared, as we 
know, that dreams may be the expression of other 
wishes than those relating to the sexual instinct — 
even when the term sexual is used with the wide 
connotations which he gives to it. It might indeed 
be foreseen that all the instincts would find expres- 
sion in dreams. Here is a huge domain for ex- 
plorers. 

In the present chapter I assemble four cases, the 
first of which ( autopsy choanalysis) deals with 
dreams aroused by the instinct of self-preservation ; 
they are concerned with the obsessive idea of death 
during pulmonary tuberculosis. The other three in- 
stances are concerned with the instinct for mother- 
hood. In Yvonne and in Renee the dreams occur 
when the subject is pregnant. In Martha, they relate 
only to a wish for motherhood; but this wish is ac- 
companied by a }3hysiological condition (menstrual 
irregularity) of which the wish is a contributory 
cause. In all these cases, therefore, the dreams are 
connected with some definite physiological state ; but 
we are not entitled to regard them as a direct ex- 
pression of the condition of the bodily organs, as a 
sort of internal perception. A perception of this 



THE INSTINCT OF SELF-PRESERVATION 267 

kind, especially one aroused by kinaesthetic sensa- 
tions, may doubtless play a part; but it is certain 
that, in the causation of dreams, disquietude concern- 
ing an organ is more important than the objective 
condition of that organ. A woman who wants to 
have a baby may dream of being pregnant just as 
may a woman who is really pregnant. A consump- 
tive who has been dreaming about his lungs night 
after night, may cease to have such dreams directly 
he has been told that examination shows his sputum 
to be free from tubercle bacilli; yet there has been 
no sudden change in his physiological state; there 
has merely been a change in his mental condition. 

It is true that the instinct of self-preservation and 
the instinct for motherhood are not normally ** cen- 
sored'' like the sexual instinct. They may be more 
or less repressed. Above all, impressions relating 
to them (the fear of death, for example) may be re- 
pressed — ^may be repressed in the strict sense of the 
term, under the influence of a moral sentiment. 
This happens in our first case, but the repression 
has not been vigorous, and the uneasiness is mani- 
fest in the waking state. It may happen that the 
disquietude shown in the dream is one of which the 
subject is fully conscious. In Yvonne, for instance, 
we have a dread that the baby will be stillborn, or 
that the doctor will not arrive in time ; in Martha, 
we have the longing to be a mother; in Eenee, the 
unwillingness to be a mother. Nevertheless, the 
dreams assume symbolical forms. In especial, the 
organs concerned, the lungs, etc., are represented by 
symbols. 



268 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

In several of his adolescent subjects, Auguste 
Lemaitre has noted symbolical dreams which he 
found it difficult, without straining the explanation, 
to account for by the theory of repression.^ Diffi- 
culty vanishes if we admit, as we have been led to 
admit, that symbolisation is the outcome of the gen- 
eral laws of the imagination; that repression makes 
use of symbolism and reinforces it, but does not 
create it. 

In the dreams aroused by the instinct of self- 
preservation or the instinct for motherhood, it is 
possible that other instincts are simultaneously at 
work. As concerns some dreams, this is certainly 
the case. In Eenee, the refusal of motherhood is 
linked with a general psychosexual inclination to 
refuse femininity, either through latent homosexu- 
ality (Freud) or through masculine protest (Adler). 
Of course, we are always entitled to suspect, in the 
case of any dream, that unseen instincts are at work. 
But it would be absurd to insist upon finding them 
there, and to explain the symbolisation as a mani- 
festation of repressed instincts, when, symbolisation 
or no symbolisation, these instincts would surely re- 
veal themselves if present. 

1, Autopsy cho analysis 

Dreams during an Attack of Pulmonary 
Tuberculosis. 

These dreams and fragments of dreams are the 
transparent symbols of an obsessive disquietude, 

^ Lemaitre, op. cit., pp. 14, 21. 



THE INSTINCT OF SELF-PRESERVATION 269 

that of illness and death. In the waking state, this 
disquietude was partially repressed by a deliberate 
optimism. The affected organ, the lung, is some- 
times denoted by a strange and lucid symbolism. 
The symbols in question belong to the category of 
'^organic symbols'' studied long ago by Schemer.^ 
Many of the dreams about to be recorded contain 
obvious allusions to other preoccupations than the 
illness. These matters will not be discussed here. 

I. I was out walking alone; I had a book in my 
hand, I was going to read. The sky was gloomy and 
overcast. Before me stretched the brown, damp, 
clayey expanse of the plough-lands, and also in front 
of me was the dazzling whiteness of a straight road 
whicli my path, mounting all the time, was to rejoin 
higher up. Suddenly from my left, in the ravine, 
from the direction of the town, — for there was a town, 
— came the noise of shouting ; I remembered that there 
was a war. Then, close at hand, not more than twenty 
paces away, I saw a grey-coated man, a shadowy figure, 
apparently in uniform. I realised that I had been 
sentenced as a spy, and that I was about to be shot. 
The man took aim. I saw what was imminent with- 
out any sense of fear. I watched the smoke at the 
muzzle of the rifle; I staggered; I was dead. Then 
I found myself with a book in my hand, seated in a 
room, and reading the sequel of the events in which 
I had just played a leading part. The being who had 
recently died, and who was myself, appeared in my 
book in the third person. 

^ Schemer, Das Leben des Traumes, 1861, pp. 114 et seq., 
quoted by Freud, The Interpretation of Dreams, 1913, pp. 69-73. 



270 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

Often enough, in fact, I walked in this way hold- 
ing a book. At the same time it was my custom to 
scribble notes as I walked. When, inadvertently, I 
approached any of the forts, I was always regarded 
with suspicion; was challenged, and asked for my 
papers. Of course a few words were enough to 
clear up the difficulty. What annoyed me most on 
these occasions was the interruption to my work. 

In my dream this episode assumes a graver form, 
for it culminates in my being shot. The soldier 
who shoots me is clad in grey, and produces on me 
the impression that he is a '^shadow,'' a phantom; 
everything about him calls up the idea of death. 
The war, symbolised by this soldier, has been the 
determining cause of the illness. 

The shouts of war come from a town lying at the 
bottom of a ravine. My own home was in the coun- 
try, in a place overlooking a large town (my native 
city), situated at the bottom of a valley like the 
town of my dream. I lived in the country for hy- 
gienic reasons, and the *^town" represented for me 
the unwholesome atmosphere in which I had spent 
my youth, and which had been one of the causes of 
my illness. 

The book in my hand is intimately associated with 
my work. The war first of all, and subsequently my 
illness, troubled me mainly as hindrances to the work 
for which I lived. 

The path by which I am ascending in my dream 
is a difficult one, whilst higher up I catch a glimpse 
of the **road" — the straight and easy line of action 
which I should like to reach, but which I fear I shall 



THE INSTINCT OF SELF-PRESERVATION 271 

never reach. The damp weather, which I know to 
be unfavourable to my health, recalls my illness. 

Finally I undergo a sort of resurrection, with the 
book in my hand. This symbolises the wish and the 
hope that I shall survive, through the instrumen- 
tality of a work which will outlive me. 

II. I was on a terrace which in the rear seemed to 
commiinicate with residential flats. It was like an 
enormous veranda. Beside me, in the shadow, to my 
left, was my mother, hardly more visible than a phan- 
tom. She had some needlework in her hands. It was 
woolwork; the wool was soft, and of a dull grey 
colour. I was not frightened; we were talking 
quite simply. We did not say much; my mother, 
especially, said very little; hers was an almost 
mute presence. I was lying flat on my back, my arms 
stretched wide, the better to breathe; and I thus 
breathed in the freshness of a starry night, more 
beautiful and fresher than I had ever known before. 
It was infinitely good and sweet. I watched in one of 
the constellations an oval image the shape of certain 
holy pictures, and I could make out there the face of a 
man bearded as my father was bearded, inclining for- 
wards as he looked earthward. I fancied that it must 
be St. Joseph. I think that the man had in his hand a 
yellow lily (the one known as St. Joseph's lily). 

Below, in the bottom of a valley, was the town. 
Here I could see lights spruiging up and moving 
about, as if a torch-light tattoo had been in progress. 
Now came shouts from the same quarter: **Fire! 
Fire!" In my dream I understood these words as if 
the cry had been: *'To arms!" Then I realised that 
the men who were shouting had seen an enemy aero- 



272 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

plane, and that they were about to fire. I think I said 
to my mother: ** Perhaps I shall be hit by a bomb." 
But neither she nor I stirred. Still lying flat on my 
back with arms outstretched, I breathed the night. 
Then I felt a severe blow full in the chest. It was the 
bomb. I awoke with a start. I could feel my bed, but 
at the same time I had a sort of hallucination of the 
sense of touch, for I felt upon my chest the contact and 
the passage of some cold object. Knowing myself to 
be awake, I was aware for a moment of physical fear 
in all its power. 

My position, the outstretched arms, and my need 
for breath, clearly symbolises the illness; so does 
the death-stroke received full in the chest. In addi- 
tion, I recognise several of the symbols which have 
been explained in the interpretation of the first 
dream : the war, the town in the valley from which 
the shouts come. The cries of war have been re- 
placed by the cry, ^^Fire!''; this suggests that the 
cry '^To arms!'' had first presented itself to my 
imagination, but had been rejected for some reason 
(perhaps because its meaning was too obvious), and 
the cry *^Fire!*' had taken its place. But the sub- 
stitution had been incomplete, so that when I heard 
the cry * * Fire ! ' ' I understood it to mean * * To arms ! * ' 
The same substitution would explain the torchlight 
tattoo. On the evenings of the French national fes- 
tival I had often watched the regiments carrying 
torches as they returned to barracks. Foot-soldiers, 
naturally associated with war, normally carry arms ; 
just as the cry *^To arms!" has been replaced by 



THE INSTINCT OF SELF-PRESERVATION 273 

the cry **Fire!" so the soldiers, in place of carry- 
ing arms, carry torches. 

My parents are dead. My mother, in this dream, 
appeared in the grey, phantasmal, and mute form 
which so often symbolises the idea of death. The 
soldier of the first dream was also wraithlike. The 
grey woolwork symbolises the work of the Fates. 

When my father died I was a child, and I naively 
represented the dead as leaning forward out of 
heaven towards the living, like the St. JosepTi of my 
dream. The St. Joseph's lily grew in the flower- 
beds of our garden, and my father was particularly 
fond of this flower. Finally, in the year when my 
father died, I had a mathematical master who gave 
me my first notions of astronomy and taught me to 
admire the stars. The first constellation I learned 
to recognise was Cassiopeia. I knew that in Catho- 
lic astronomy this constellation had been called St. 
Mary, because of its resemblance to a capital M. 
The oval image of my dream appeared in the part 
of the sky where, in childhood, I had seen this con- 
stellation. St. Mary is associated with my mother, 
just as St. Joseph is associated with my father. 

This oval image is connected with another mem- 
ory of childhood, and all these allusions to my par- 
ents give expression to my feelings towards them 
in childhood ; the analysis in this direction would be 
a lengthy matter. Suffice it to note that the ten- 
dency to introversion associated with the maternal 
complex was at this period accentuated by illness. 
The tendency and the illness were a retreat (cf. the 



274 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

torchlight tattoo ') in face of life. The whole dream 
is dominated by the idea of death. 

The calm and beautiful night, with the stars shin- 
ing brilliantly, recalls the nights when I had an 
enthusiasm for astronomy, and above all for the 
feeling of boundlessness and eternity which astron- 
omy arouses. The same feeling is aroused by death 
when we contemplate death in a spirit of religious 
calm, and under the aspect of eternal or universal 
life rather than under the aspect of destruction. 

Thus, by a remarkably rich symbolism, my dream 
gave expression to something which I would not ad- 
mit in the waking state; to the fact that my mind 
was obsessed by the idea of death. At the close of 
the dream there even came the animal dread of 
death, which had hitherto been veiled in contempla- 
tive calm; this latter, also, was a real feeling, but 
was over-emphasised in order to conceal the equally 
real fear. 

I am inclined to explain the last detail of the dream 
by supposing that when the sense of sight had fully 
awakened, the sense of touch was still slumbering. 

III. I was standing at a closed window ; I had a feel- 
ing of suffocation. I opened the window to get fresh 
air, but the feeling of suffocation continued. I saw 
that the shutters were closed; I pushed at them; the 
left shutter opened with a bang, and was caught back 
against the wall ; the right shutter, as often as I pushed 
it open, was blown to by the wind. At last I thought 

^ There is a word-play here which cannot be conveyed in the 
translation. In French the torchlight tattoo is a "retreat," une 
retraite aux flambeaux. — Translators' Note. 



THE INSTINCT OF SELF-PRESERVATION 275 

that I had got it in its place against the wall, but again 
it was blown to. Leaning out, I saw that the catch 
had been wrenched from the wall, and that 
the wall was crumbling where the catch had been. 
The wall was built of oolitic limestone, a stone which 
quickly becomes black at the surface, but which is 
white when freshly broken, so that any recent fracture 
is conspicuous; such a recent fracture was obvious 
where I was looking. When struggling with the wind, 
I had said these words to fortify myself: ''After all, 
I am three hundred times as strong as destiny." 
"While pronouncing the word "destiny," I know that 
I was really speaking of the wind. 

The disease is easily recognised in the sense of 
suffocation. The two shutters, one of which opens 
while the other is obstinate, immediately make me 
think of my lungs, for I know that one lung is much 
more gravely affected than the other. But whereas 
the most affected lung is the left, it is the right 
shutter which is stubborn ; here we have a symmetri- 
cal transference.^ 

Even in the dream, I called the wind by its true 
name, destiny. The obliteration of the object in 
the symbol was incomplete, just as in the previous 
dream the obliteration of the symbol *^To arms!'' 

^ In the first dream the town where the war was going- on, and 
in the second dream my dead mother, had been on my left side, 
and I had twice noted this detail without attaching any importance 
to it, and without attempting to explain it. 

As far as concerns the shutters, which are symmetrical objects 
like the lungs, and which open like the lungs for breathing, the 
symboHsm is more transparent; the censorship, therefore, has 
recourse to a symmetrical transference which did not occur in 
the two other dreams. ^ 



276 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

in the new symbol ^ ^ Fire ' ' had been incomplete.^ 
The wind, then, is the part destiny plays in life gen- 
erally, and in the illness specially. 

This wind, a symbol of the disease, synthetises a 
number of reminiscences and impressions ; the wind 
Induces a sense of suffocation; I know it to be in- 
jurious to me; etc. In addition, it recalls to my 
mind a poem by Benoist-Hanappier, under whom I 
worked at the university of Nancy, and who died 
(note the relevant detail) of consumption. His 
death made a great impression upon my mind, and 
it was a few days later that I read the poem. It 
opens with the verse: 

There was a wind, a high wind, 

and it ends with the stanza : 

When I die, when I die, 

I think that a strong, gloomy wind 

Will wail despairingly, 

Echoing the invisible ill, 

When I die, when I die. 

The crumbling wall symbolises the damaged lung; 
when I lean out of the window I discover that this 
is the cause of the trouble. The oolitic limestone, 
with its granular structure, is chosen because of its 
resemblance to the structure of the lungs. 

We have still to explain the number ^Hhree hun- 
dred" in the phrase: *^I am three hundred times as 
strong as destiny." Other dreams lead me to sup- 

^A substitution was effected in the symbols, but not in the 
intellectual interpretation of the symbols. 



THE INSTINCT OF SELF-PRESERVATION 277 

pose that it is an allusion to the three hundred Spar- 
tans who fought under Leonidas. My contest with 
the disease seemed to me preeminently a struggle 
of moral energy. This outlook had been confirmed 
by the results I had secured through autosuggestion 
in the way of improving sleep and checking cough. 
My first understanding of the nature of moral energy 
had come to me, during my classical studies, in strik- 
ing instances from Greek history. The most impres- 
sive of these had been the example of the three hun- 
dred Spartans who blocked the road of destiny. 

IV. I was on my way back from a long walk ; it was 
iLte; the sun had just set. I reached the foot of a 
steep hill. The road ran straight up the hill like a 
Roman road; it was worn into runnels; it vanished 
abruptly at the top of the ascent. 

At the bottom of the hill was a signpost, with the 
legend '^Dommartemont, 12 kilometres.'* I said to 
myself that I still had a long way to go, and that it 
would be hard work. But I knew my way home from 
Dommartemont. 

I set out. But I had made only a few steps forward 
when my heart began to beat violently ; flushes of heat 
rose to my face ; I felt that I was going to fall. Then 
I awoke. 

The close of this dream shows that it relates to 
my illness. The palpitation and the flushes of heat 
are real symptoms ; they play the same part as the 
sense of suffocation in the previous dream. 

A few days earlier, I had seen a Eoman road. 
This reminiscence served me as a symbol. The 



278 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

Eoman road spontaneously called up the following 
associations : stupendous tasks, like those performed 
by the Eomans ; the labours of Hercules. 

Immediately the twelve kilometres of the signpost 
made me think of the twelve labours of Hercules 
(analogous to the three hundred Spartans). 

Dommartemont is the name of a village in the re- 
gion where I was born. Thence I know my ^^way 
home," that is to say, I know how to find my way 
back to the life of former days. In addition, by an 
auditory association, the word calls up Montmartre, 
the martyrs' hill. The ascent is a heroic one. 
jfivening, the approach of night, symbolises a pre- 
mature death. 

The work of the Eomans, the labours of Hercules, 
the heroism of the martyrs — ^here are so many meta- 
phors to describe the hugeness of the task and my 
own weakness in face of it, a weakness which I was 
only half willing to admit in the waking state. 

V. I was on a country road. Suddenly the wind 
became so violent that I was blown to the ground. I 
wanted to make my way back, crawlmg on hands and 
knees if needs must, towards the houses from which 
I had come. The wind was too much for me. My 
movements were like those of one who is swimmiag 
agaiast a stream too strong for him, and the current 
swept me away. 

The road, the wind, the houses to which I was 
trying to return, are all symbols which can be ex- 
plained by the preceding dream. My desperate 
struggle in the dust of the road was strangely remi- 



THE INSTINCT OF SELF-PRESERVATION 279 

niscent of the close of Spitteler's poem Papillons, 
which I had been reading attentively not long before 
the dream/ In this poem, the butterfly, after fruit- 
less efforts, falls dying into the dust on the road. 
In my dream I felt as if I were beating my wings 
like a butterfly. 

VI. I was in an examination hall and had just 
finished writing my composition. I had begun to 
write a fair copy, when behind me I heard the voice 
of Monsieur B., my old master of the lycee Louis le 
Grand, asking for the compositions. I made up my 
mind to give him the rough copy. At this moment I 
heard Monsieur B. saying goodbye to those who were 
going out. It seemed as if it were a farewell class. 

The idea is barely disguised: a premature con- 
clusion; an unfinished piece of work; one has to 
make the best of a bad job. It must be noted that 
while I was in Monsieur B.'s class my health broke 
down, so that my studies were interrupted before 
the close of the school year. 

The next dream, classed as VII, really consists of 
three successive dreams, which were dreamed in one 
night as three acts of the same drama. I awoke 
after each act, and after the first and second acts 
I had recourse to autosuggestion in order to over- 
come the painful impression left by the nightmare. 
The third act signifies a victory, as it were ; a happy 
ending. 

^ A French translation of this poem was subsequently (May, 
1916) published in "Le Carmel" of Geneva, under the title 
Moiue (monk). 



280 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

VII. 1. I am holding a strange little marionette. 
As I look at it, its body becomes hollowed out here and 
there into holes and cavities, until there is nothing left 
but a head, where two similar holes soon appear, so 
that it is now a death's head, while of the body noth- 
ing remains beyond a wire skeleton. 

2. I have just bought one of Spitteler's books. I am 
with some friends. We seem to be coming back from 
a class. We are talking and larking. Apparently 
the book falls ; anyhow, it is spoiled in some way, and 
its back becomes pierced with holes, just like those 
which appeared in the marionette of the previous 
dream. I am in doubt what to do, and then I make up 
my mind to change the book. One of my friends says : 
**You are quite right; unless it is in good condition, 
no one will be able to read it when you are dead.^' 

3. In the last dream I am in a room ; a butterfly is 
fluttering in distress against a closed window. I open 
the window and the insect instantly flies away. I am 
surprised to see how intelligent it is, how quickly it 
finds the right road. Its deliverance makes me very 
happy. 

The holes, the cavities, which invade the mari- 
onette, or the back of the book, hardly need explana- 
tion. The marionette and its wire skeleton sym- 
bolise onr own frailty as parts of the universal 
mechanism, that mechanism of which the ravages of 
disease are among the effects. 

The book (borrowed from the symbolism of dream 
I) represents my work. I had seen Spitteler 
shortly before, and had been much impressed by the 
vigour of his old age. He seemed to me one who had 
enjoyed the whole of a great life to perform a great 



THE INSTINCT OF SELF-PRESERVATION 281 

work. A great life followed by a vigorous old age 
were what I desired for myself, but my illness 
threatened to rob me of them. 

In the terminal dream, a butterfly has taken the 
place of Spitteler's book. The first of Spitteler's 
books I read was Papillons (V). But whereas in 
the second act of this three-act dream drama I had 
merely decided to do something, **to change my 
book,'* in act three I triumph. I am surprised at 
the close that an animal should have so much intel- 
ligence. This makes me think of my psychological 
interest in the unconscious, in the subconscious, in 
connection with which, suggestion, on the one hand, 
and psychoanalysis on the other, have revealed to 
me an intelligent activity of an amazing character. 
As I have already explained, I consider the triumph 
to have been mainly achieved by autosuggestion. 

VIII. I was in a house to which I have often had to 
go in the course of my professional duties. Further- 
more, it was the house of a man of science who has 
done excellent work. I hear cries of **Fire!" I go 
out. People are fighting the flames; they get the 
better of the conflagration. But whereas the front of 
the house is practically uninjured, I see that, inside, 
the left half has been destroyed. The other half has 
been saved. It contains a large room, where the life of 
the house can be reconstructed on modest lines. 

The **house'' is a fresh image associated with 
my work. The cry **Fire!" is borrowed from the 
symbolism of dream II. The two halves of the 
house are the lungs once more. I may add that the 



282 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

appearance of the burned house strongly recalled 
the crumbling wall in dream III. Although the 
symbols undergo a certain development, there is a 
fixity of aspect which assists in their interpretation. 

2. Yvonne 
Feaes Concerning Childbieth. 

Like the previous instance, this is not the analysis 
of a * * case. " It is merely the analysis of the dreams 
of a woman during the last weeks of pregnancy, 
dreams which give expression in a rather remark- 
able fashion to certain disquietudes relating to child- 
birth. 

Yvonne has various dreads. One of them is that 
her baby will be born prematurely. In several 
dreams she gets into a tramcar with a child and lets 
it drop. Some of the associations suggest that these 
dreams give expression to the before-mentioned 
fear. But, in other dreams, other fears are ex- 
pressed in ways that cannot be mistaken. 

One night when Yvonne fell asleep she was ob- 
sessed with the dread that her baby would be still- 
born. She had just been chasing a large bluebottle 
fly; it was nearly dead, but it had escaped into a 
crevice. That night, she had the following dream : 

I. Yvonne had a suppurating wound on the wrist, 
shaped like a lentil ; and several transparent spots, also 
shaped like lentils, on the arm. She was with her 
mother, but in her own house. She was going to live 
somewhere else, in the house of a woman rather like 



THE INSTINCT OF SELF-PRESERVATION 283 

the one who sometimes attends the neighbouring peas- 
ant women in their confinements. Pus is squeezed out 
of the wound several times, but at the bottom of it 
there is a squashed fly which won't come out. The 
woman in whose house Yvonne has gone to live says 
that the hour has not yet come, but that the orifice will 
enlarge of itself at the right moment. 



The allusion to the confinement is so plainly ex- 
pressed in the dream that comment is superfluous. 
Is it necessary to stress the description of this ori- 
fice, which **will enlarge of itself at the right mo- 
ment''? 

Besides the dread of the stillbirth, we can detect 
in this dream another uneasiness, one of which the 
subject is also fully conscious. She cannot make up 
her mind whether to stay at home for her confine- 
ment, or to enter a maternity hospital. She lives 
in the country, * * a long way from everywhere, ' ' and 
she is afraid of being taken unawares. 

One Thursday evening, when she fell asleep, her 
mind was occupied with the problem of what would 
happen should her baby be born on a Sunday, when 
nothing would be ready, when all the shops would 
be closed, and when it might be difficult to get a doc- 
tor. That night she had the following dream: 

II. The stove-pipe is choked to overflowing. It is 
Sunday. No chimney-sweep to be had. She hurries 
off to find one in a street where there lives someone 
whose address she had made a note of, in case she 
could not get a midwife. 



284 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

This transparent dream, was dreamed during the 
night of Thursday-Friday. It is not unlikely that 
the subject's disquietude, considerable enough to set 
the subconscious at work even during sleep, may 
have acted as a spontaneous suggestion. At any 
rate, labour pains began on Saturday afternoon, and 
the child was bom the same night — before midnight, 
however. 

5. Heme 
Eefusal. of Femininity and of Mothekhood 

Eenee has long suffered from nervous and sexual 
troubles. She says that her father was extremely 
neuropathic, that he had ideas of persecution and 
believed himself very unfortunate. She herself suf- 
fers from sexual impotence (frigidity). Once only 
has intercourse with her husband (whom she loves) 
been *^ normal"; ever since, she has had to avail 
herself of masturbation to secure complete gratifica- 
tion, which even then is difficult to obtain. Her sister 
suffers from a similar impotence (frigidity). 

Eenee is also subject to obsessions. Sometimes 
she will fancy herself to be so ugly that she cannot 
bear to look at herself. She has a fixed idea that 
she suffers from goitre. She is frequently afflicted 
by nervous pains, little attacks of nervous irritation, 
in the cardiac region, round the flanks, and in the 
chest, attended by a sense of suffocation. 

Eenee was pregnant. Her state in this respect 
was the chief cause of her disquietude, and her gen- 



THE INSTINCT OF SELF-PRESERVATION 285 

eral nervous condition was most unsatisfactory. 
Her dominant idea was that she would give anything 
not to have a baby. She rationalised her repugnance 
by reasons which, though plausible, were inadequate 
to explain the intensity of her dislike to the prospect. 
It was not necessary to dig deeply beneath these 
reasons before discovering an irrational and quasi- 
instinctive but intense disgust for motherhood. 
Here is one of her dreams. 

I. The face of a drowned woman showing above the 
water, in the twilight. Renee stretched out her hand 
to pull the body out of the water, but the body dis- 
appears. 

The associations to the words *^ drowned woman" 
have an unmistakable significance. 

A swollen body, a fat woman; her breasts quake. 
. . . This woman laughs; she is repulsive. Beside 
her is a young girl, slender and fresh-looking. **IVe 
always thought pregnancy disgusting.'' 

This drowned woman is Kenee pregnant. She is 
*' drowned '^ because she feels overwhelmed by the 
claims of motherhood; she cannot meet them; she 
says that it is beyond her power to do so, because 
of her ailments, and because she is not well enough 
off. But the fundamental thing is her disgust ; and 
when we ask for associations with the ''pulling out 
of the water," we once more get images tinged with 
disgust. 



286 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

To pull by the hair. — ^Lice. Itching. A dirty comb 
which combs out lice.^ 

Some writers, and Adler in especial,^ have pointed 
out that such a refusal of childbearing may be part 
of a general refusal of femininity and a * ' masculine 
protest,'' a subconscious wish to play a man's part. 
Eenee certainly seems to exemplify this theory, and 
her repudiation of the coming child would appear 
to be a particular instance of her general refusal 
of the woman's part, or of her maladaptation to it. 

Here is another dream. 

II. Coining away from a party. A leopard lurking 
in a dark comer. An evening party. Renee was 
there with all her family; her relatives and her hus- 
band. She shows the leopard to her mother and her 
sister. All three run away into the depths of a wood. 
As soon as she is safe, she notices that her husband, her 
brother-in-law, and her father, are not there. She 
wonders what has happened. 

The associations are frankly erotic. 

Tarty. Lots of people. — Men in evening dress. — 
Women in low dress. — Lascivious glances. The scene 
reminds her of a nook in the wood, where a very smart 
party had been held. . . . Reminiscence of a walk 
with her husband, during the early days of their mar- 
riage. 

Dark corner. Lovers. 

* Possibly this is an allusion to masturbation. 
2 Op. cit.. p. 155. 



THE INSTINCT OF SELF-PRESERVATION 287 

Leopard, Cries of alarm mingled with laughter. 
The depths of a wood. The same walk with her hus- 
band. 



The significant point, however, is that in this erotic 
setting, which recalls the walk with her husband, 
Renee dreams that she runs away with two women, 
her mother and her sister, whereas her husband, 
and the husbands of both the other women, vanish. 
Here we have a perfect exam{)le of a ** homosexual 
fantasy." We discern a flight from sexuality prop- 
erly so called, and a fixation of the feeling upon the 
persons of the mother and the sister. 

The next dream introduces the question of the 
pregnancy, but it is linked to the foregoing dream. 

III. Renee entered a suburban train with her mother 
and her sister. Her mother had to get into a different 
compartment, some way off. Before the train started, 
the mother had lingered with Renee and her sister, and 
high words had passed between her mother and her 
sister. The doors were being shut. The mother was 
standing on the platform when the train started. 
Renee was afraid her mother would not be able to get 
in; she was angry with her sister, whom she accused 
of risking their mother's life. She tried to open the 
window in order to look out, and the door opened. In 
her hand she was holding a dress which had to be 
mended. The dress fell on the platform. In order 
to pick it up, Renee jumped out of the train while it 
was hi motion; then she ran after the train. She 
saw her mother had got into the compartment all right. 



288 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

When she stooped to pick up the dress, it had become a 
compartment door and was very heavy. She picked it 
up and had to run carrying it. She managed to throw 
it into the compartment. Her sister was no longer 
there. Instead there was a young couple, quarrelling. 
She thought that the man was wrong and the woman 
right. 



The *'subnrban train" reminds Eenee of return- 
ing home with her husband in such a train. In dream 
III, as in dream II, we notice that the mother and 
the sister have been substituted for the husband, and 
we draw the same inference. 

"We can pass lightly over the points which the 
dream and the associations appear to suggest, but 
which would have to be confirmed by a more elabo- 
rate analysis. Apparently the mother who lingers 
with her daughters represents the fixation of the 
infantile sentiment upon the mother; then there is 
a vacillation between the mother and the sister; 
finally the sister disappears to give place to a ** cou- 
ple'' whose relations are not perfectly harmonious. 
Let us confine ourselves to inferences which are more 
adequately verified, and more pertinent to the ques- 
tion with which we are now concerned. 

As in all the subjects who refuse their appropriate 
sexual role, or who are ill-adapted to perform it, the 
associations emphasise the repugnant aspect of sexu- 
ality. In the next compartment to that in which she 
sees herself with her husband, there are some young 
fellows singing lewd songs. The door which is be- 
ing shut has the following associations : 



THE INSTINCT OF SELF-PRESERVATION 289 

The porter. A reminiscence. Renee was quite 
young. A young man caught hold of her leg on the 
platform; a porter interfered and everything was all 
right. 

This porter who keeps order and who ** shuts the 
door'' might be regarded as an interesting symbol 
of the ^ * censorship " or repression after a sexual 
shock. Let this pass. We will follow the train of 
images. 

The ** dress'' recalls to Eenee an old dress, a blue 
costume. *^It suited me very well; I was wearing 
it the first time I met my husband. ' ' Then the dress, 
fallen on to the platfornn, calls up a * Spuddle of 
dirty water; splashes of mud; soiled shoes." The 
word *Moor" has the following associations. 

Cushions, greasy from people's heads. She does not 
like to rest her own head there. She kisses her hus- 
band, and their heads roll on the greasy places. 

This brings us back to the dirty hair and tbe lice 
in the associations to dream L TTie association to 
the symbol **very heavy door" is: *^I have a pain 
in my stomach." The weight she has to carry is 
always the burden of pregnancy. Next come asso- 
ciations in which Renee imagines herself stumbling 
under the weight. She falls and is crushed — just 
as in the earlier dream she was drowned. 

Thus the interest of this dream is the way in which 
it links up three elements: the fixation of feeling 
upon the mother and the sister ; disgust inspired by 
sexuality; refusal of maternity. 



290 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

The homosexual trend is latent and purely psychic; 
it has never given rise to actual perversion. (Nev- 
ertheless, the subject declares that homosexual rela- 
tionships do not seem repulsive to her.) This trend, 
even though it remains psychical, doubtless under- 
lies the frigidity in heterosexual intercourse. The 
family history, the possibility of morbid inheritance 
from the father, and the fact that her sister's case 
resembles her own, might lead us to suppose that 
there is organic predisposition; but psychoanalysis 
has taught us to guard against over-ready assertions 
of this kind. In any case we must not overlook the 
psychological determinants. The subject reveals 
one of these in the following reminiscence : 

IV. Her father had been cold to her from child- 
hood onwards. He was unkind to her mother. All 
the same, when she was a young girl she had felt her 
senses stirred when she was close to him. She had 
been greatly disgusted by this; ''but I could not help 
thinking that he was a man.'' 

This may indicate that originally there was a 
fixation of sexual feeling upon the father, followed 
by a forcible repression, leading to the sense of dis- 
gust ; ultimately this may have given rise to the re- 
fusal of sexuality and of the woman's part. 

This last trend is likewise shown in typical renn- 
niscences of childhood. 

V (about 6 years old). An accident. Some little 
girls sliding down a banister. Kenee wants to do the 



THE INSTINCT OF SELF-PRESERVATION 291 

same. At the turn of the stair she is going too fast 
and loses her balance. Her hands are grasping the 
banister, Eer head is over the well of the staircase, and 
her legs are hanging over the stair. 

Here we have a boy's game imitated by girls. 
This constantly happens at the age which, in Freu- 
dian terminology, is term^ed the age of * infantile 
homosexuality.'' But, having reached the ^*turn in 
the stair," where it is necessary '*to get a new bal- 
ance," Eenee *4s going too fast," and undergoes 
arrest at the stage of ^ infantile homosexuality." 
As in the association to IV, we pass immediately to 
symbols of repugnance. Eenee recalls that, in one 
of the weird notions of childhood, she had spat upon 
the banister so that one of the others might get her 
hands messed; falling into her own trap, she had 
messed her own hands. (There may be an allusion 
to masturbation here.) This spit recalls her father, 
grown old, and coughing; and it is attended with 
the idea of disgust mentioned in connection with IV. 
But to the first word of this reminiscence V, the 
word ^* accident," we have the following associa- 
tions : 

Tramcar. ... A vehicle in motion. A fat woman 
who gets out while the car is moving, and falls down. 

We are back at the theme of dream I. This remi- 
niscence, then, confirms the relationships which we 
have deduced earlier in the analysis. It sketches a 
psychological profile. 



292 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

4, Martha 

Longing for Motheehood. Menstrual 
Irregularity. 

I give a fragment from an analysis. Martha, who 
has some sons, shows evidence at this moment that 
she wants to have a daughter or regrets not having 
had one. 

.... She finds herself in a strange house, although 
the garden is the garden of their own home. . . . Out 
of the basement window there issues a little naked girl 
whom she takes in her arms. Shortly before, she was 
offered some opera-glasses. She refused them. 

The ** basement window '^ is rich in associations. 
It is a * 'partially blocked window'' — ''The sort of 
thing I don 't like. ' ' — She likes ' ' big windows. ' ' She 
has no use for anything that wants to hide. She 
likes a natural and wholesome love, not one which 
is "hygienised and mechanised." 

The opera-glasses she has refused belong to the 
same order of ideas. They symbolise the "hygien- 
ised" and the "mechanised." Martha does not like 
using opera-glasses even at the theatre. She likes 
what is natural. "I prefer to use my own eyes." 

Her conjugal relations are such that she cannot 
expect a fresh pregnancy except from an illicit union. 
It would have to be "hidden" ; her frank nature pro- 
tests against having to put up with a "basement" 
window instead of a "big" window. But she wants 
a daughter none the less, and in the dream her wish 



THE INSTINCT OF SELF-PRESERVATION 298 

secures fulfilment. The little naked girl issues from 
the basement window. 

Martha had not seen this meaning in her dream, 
but the analysis was quite satisfactory to her. The 
feelings which the analysis discovered in the dream 
really were her conscious feelings. 

In the same sitting, the first of her analysis, she 
had spoken of irregular menstruation. The anal- 
ysis led me to think that this trouble was only a 
substitute for the desired pregnancy. I put the idea 
before her, and the same month the trouble disap- 
peared. (Autosuggestion had been simultaneously 
practised.) 



CHAPTER NINE 

TYPICAL. NERVOUS DISOEDERS 

One of the convictions to which psychoanalysis has 
led us is that the subconscious complexes which un- 
derlie neuroses, and the subconscious complexes 
which explain normal character traits, are essen- 
tially identical. Superadded to what occurs in nor- 
mal cases, the appearance of a neurosis presupposes 
certain special conditions, such as that the complex 
should be more intense than usual. Above all, we 
must probably assume that accidental causes are 
generally superadded, such as a psychic predisposi- 
tion, a moral rebuff, overwork, etc. Before the rise 
of psychoanalysis, causes of the latter category were 
regarded as the essential causes of neuroses. Cer- 
tainly, we must not neglect their study, but we gain 
a profounder grasp of etiology by analysing the 
subconscious complexes. The fact that these com- 
plexes also exist in persons whose health is normal, 
is apt to make people doubt whether psychoanalysis 
really discloses the specific cause of neuroses. A 
simple comparison will show that this objection is 
invalid. Before the discovery of the tubercle bacil- 
lus, pulmonary tuberculosis, or, as it was then 
termed, * ^ consumption, ' ^ could be supposed to arise 
as an outcome of overwork, a disappointment in 
love, etc. Similarly with neurasthenia. In the case 
of tuberculosis, we now regard such causes as acci- 

294 



TYPICAL NERVOUS DISORDERS 295 

dental causes, which have an effect only through 
diminishing the resistance of the organism ; the spe- 
cific cause is the tubercle bacillus. The tubercle 
bacillus, like the subconscious complex, exists in 
healthy human beings, but the healthy organism is 
resistant. In this sense it has been said that we 
are all more or less tuberculous. In precisely the 
same sense it may be said that we are all potential 
neuropaths. 

This is why the analysis of the neuropath's per- 
sistently infantile attitude towards the parents is 
of primary importance. We have seen that differ- 
ent forms of this attitude correspond to different 
types of character ; they also correspond to different 
types of nervous disorder. We might even say that 
the nervous disorders from which any patient suf- 
fers are caricatures of that patient's psychological 
type. 

Alexander and Roger both exhibit the complex of 
attachment to the mother, with its usual accompani- 
ments, the dread of reality and the refusal of sexu- 
ality. In Roger, this refusal actually leads to a 
physiological condition of impotence. In Alexan- 
der, the antagonism to the father is complicated by 
latent homosexuality, by a voluptuous delight in suf- 
fering inflicted by the father, and this feeling under- 
lies anxiety states which take the form of vertigo. 
Germaine, on the other hand, is greatly attached to 
her father, and is definitely hostile to her mother 
and her sister. Her morbidly fussy activity de- 
pends upon a subconscious wish to outdo her sister. 
The spasm of the eyelid from which she suffers is 



296 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

over-determined, for underlying it are a desire for 
marriage and a wish to escape from maternal 
authority. 

Of course we have encountered and shall encoun- 
ter nervous disorders in many other subjects. But 
the cases grouped in this chapter seem to me typi- 
cal. Moreover, they are free, or almost free, from 
complication with certain other elements (mental 
troubles, the progressive course of a sublimation, 
the eager search for a guide) which will practically 
monopolise our attention in subsequent chapters. 

1, Alexander 
Anxiety States 

The subject is a schoolmaster, who is also a stu- 
dent of psychology. Although he has not fully 
grasped the theories of psychoanalysis, he knows 
something about them. I mention this point because 
it may have influenced the course of the analysis, 
and may, through suggestion, have made it conform 
more closely to the classical type. On the other 
hand the subject's mental calibre, his habit of self- 
examination, were conditions favourable to precise 
observation. 

Alexander is thirty-nine years of age. The first 
detail he gives me is that the death of his mother, 
which took place when he was nine or ten years old, 
exercised a great influence over his development. 
(He is familiar with the theory of the ^^(Edipus 
complex.") He was very fond of his mother, and 
he was her favourite. He was the second child. 



TYPICAL NERVOUS DISORDERS 297 

He did not care much for his eldest brother, who 
was rather jealous of him. His feeling towards his 
father was tinged with a certain antipathy, for the 
father was ** rather tyrannical,'' though he made 
sacrifices for his sons. Alexander, when quite a 
little boy, used sometimes to have the grotesque idea 
of hitting his father or his uncle. The father 
wanted to become mayor of the village, and his polit- 
ical interests often took him away to town; the 
mother was very jealous during her husband's ab- 
sences. The father has married again. 

Relations between the father and the paternal 
grandfather were broken off from the time of the 
father's remarriage. Alexander, of whom the 
grandfather was fond, was the only tie. He had a 
dislike for his uncle, his father's half-brother, 
younger than the father. He said to me : * * I smoke 
because my uncle doesn't like me to smoke. . . . 
Whenever he has tried to help me, things have gone 
amiss. . . . You don't mind my smoking?" 

One of the central ideas of his life is that he must 
not allow any woman to interfere with him in the 
pursuit of his end. Though he has had opportuni- 
ties, he has, generally speaking, been careful to avoid 
falling in love. The adoptive mother of one of his 
pupils has shown an affection for him to which he 
has made no response. He had an exalted passion 
for a young woman, who had been a playmate in 
childhood, and whose education was entrusted to 
him. When he had to come to Switzerland in order 
to finish his studies, he began a declaration. The 
young woman said: **The matter is not in my 



298 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

hands, but in my father's." Wounded by this re- 
ception of his advances, he broke with her and set 
out for Switzerland. 

After a failure in his career, he suffered from a 
sudden obsession. He was constantly turning over 
in his mind the phrase: ''Something is going to 
happen to you." Contemplating his thought, he 
would reply: '^This is absurd; I am going off my 
head." It was at this date that he looked up one 
of his uncles, who was a doctor. Since then, when 
he closes his eyes, he sees old women, misshapen and 
making grimaces; or sometimes wild beasts, or hu- 
man figures which change into beasts. In these 
visions, the figures of women, especially old women, 
predominate. He recalls one feminine torso in par- 
ticular, an old womian with hollow eyes. 

In the period immediately following the above- 
mentioned failure, he was haunted by ideas of sui- 
cide. After his rupture with the young woman 
(about two months afterwards) a definite anxiety 
neurosis began. He was then in Zurich, and a feel- 
ing of anxiety or sadness took possession of him 
every evening. He was taciturn, lost his appetite, 
and was affected with hypnagogic hallucinations. 
He was troubled by obsessive anxiety states, and 
notably by a feeling of instability, of vertigo, when 
he thought about the movement of the earth — this 
occurring especially while attending natural-history 
lectures. Alexander was treated by Dr. Frank [a 
Zurich psychoanalyst] , and his condition greatly im- 
proved. At the time when he came to Geneva, the 
acute anxiety states troubled him only by way of 



TYPICAL NERVOUS DISORDERS 299 

occasional relapses lasting a few hours. The ob- 
session concerning the movement of the earth per- 
sisted; he was also still troubled by the grimacing 
figures. When he came to consult me, he had al- 
ready begun to practise autosuggestion unaided. 
By this means he had for ten days or more succeeded 
in ridding himself of these visions, but the other 
symptoms persisted. 

At our first sitting, the existence of the ^ * CEdipus 
complex" became apparent. The subject is aware 
that he has this complex — too keenly aware, per- 
haps, for he is biased by the theory. But he knew 
nothing about this theory at the date when the mani- 
festations began, and there can be no doubt that he 
is really affected with the CEdipus complex. Psycho- 
analysts tell us that images of grimacing old women 
(the witch, the ^^ dread mother") are familiar symp- 
toms of this complex. Antagonism to the father is 
another sign. This hostility is generalised or ex- 
tended towards various persons who might exercise 
an authority akin to the paternal (the elder brother, 
the uncle). Alexander expects the analysis to bring 
about in him a symbolical reconciliation with **the 
father." He notes that the first doctor whom he 
went to consult after the neurosis developed was an 
'* uncle." He seems already to have identified me 
with one of these quasi-paternal figures, with the 
father against whom he protests. His uncle had 
blamed him for smoking, and that is why he smokes ; 
and it is immediately after he has explained this to 
me that he starts smoking in my presence. Inas- 
much as I know that for him, since childhood, 



300 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

*^ uncle'' and ** doctor'' have been intimately asso- 
ciated, and that I myself therefore embody for him 
something of both these attributes, I understand the 
situation. As so often happens in these analyses, 
his subconscious is led to me by the conscious, as a 
haltered calf is led to the slaughterhouse — and the 
subconscious is rebellious. 

Here is the first dream of which he brought me 
the record. He awoke twice in the course of the 
dream, but it was resumed as soon as he went to 
sleep again. 

I. He was in his native region, perhaps in his native 
village. Even while the dream was in progress, it was 
not quite easy to be certain where he was. It seemed 
to be the place where his best friend and sometime 
schoolmaster, Pierre, lived, though Pierre really lives 
on a little island. He arrived towards evening, alone 
or with one companion. He does not know why he 
did not visit his friend immediately. There was a con- 
flict in his mind, for he wanted to see Pierre. Next 
day he learned that Pierre had just died. He was 
remorseful. He could not go to see his friend's body, 
for the relatives knew that he might have called the 
day before. He went out, taking the first road that 
offered, and found himself at the place where, on the 
previous evening, he had had the mental conflict. He 
was now accompanied by a girl, who may have be- 
longed to the locality or may have been a Swiss. The 
place was a green field in springtime He does not re- 
member what he said to the girl, but now he saw his 
friend's wife coming towards him. She was oddly 



i 



TYPICAL NERVOUS DISORDERS 801 

dressed, not in mourning, but wearing a coffee-colonred 
gown, with a fashionable hat and a crape veil. She 
ran up to him and threw herself into his arms. Sexual 
excitement. He had expected reproaches, and was 
greatly astonished. She gave him some sketchy details 
concerning Pierre's death. He went back with her 
towards the house. (At the moment when she had ap- 
proached him the young girl had disappeared.) He 
entered with the wife. The house was unrecognisable. 
Terrible disorder. In the dream they lived on the 
ground floor, whereas really they lived on the first 
floor. Seized with terror he awoke (this was the sec- 
ond waking). Falling asleep again, he found himself 
back in the house. His friend's body was headless, 
and this had been the cause of his alarm. He cried 
out. In a basket to the left was the severed head. 
The eyes were closed. The face was pale, but not stiff. 
Terror. Change of scene. Alexander found himself 
in the laundry. Pierre 's wife was there, also her niece, 
who is the same age as himself. He greeted her. His 
terror was now forgotten. He had a feeling which he 
thinks was sexually tinged. The wife was washing 
clothes ; the water was dirty, looking almost like black 
blood. The clothes grew dirtier while being washed. 

Apropos of this dream, Alexander recalls that 
seven years ago his friend's wife and her niece had 
come to stay in the village. The wife had been 
taken ill and took to her bed. He had been for a 
walk with the niece to the place seen in the dream; 
it was in the spring. The niece had said that she 
was not in love with anyone, that she did not *^feel 
like a woman.'' She seems to be the symbol of an 
impracticable love, or of love refused. Pierre's 



302 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

wife was the most intimate friend of Alexander's 
mother. Pierre himself, the old friend, had in Alex- 
ander's boyhood been his schoolmaster. Pierre's 
wife and Pierre are respectively condensed with 
Alexander's mother and father. The setting of the 
scene is the outcome of a similar condensation. The 
district is simultaneously Alexander's native village 
and the place where Pierre lives; the house is 
Pierre's, but in the dream he lives on the ground 
floor like Alexander's parents in reality.^ Pierre 
and his wife may be regarded is impersonations of 
Alexander's father and mother, and the whole dream 
is a variation upon the (Edipus drama, love of the 
mother and murder of the father. Notwithstanding 
his knowledge of the CEdipus complex, Alexander 
had not, prior to the analysis, realised that this was 
the meaning of his dream. However, the murder is 
not direct; it would even seem that the real culprit 
must have been the mother, that she is a sort of 
Clytemnestra. But the black blood at the close, the 
spot which cannot be washed out, must certainly be 
the blood of crime, like the blood of Agamemnon in 
the ancient tragedy. By association, the black blood 
and the dirty water arouse images linked with the 
idea of the mother. 

A reminiscence of childhood. A confinement. Not- 
withstanding the superstition which forbids it in this 

1 The "coffee-coloured gown" reminds the subject of the excel- 
lent coffee which he has been used to drink at his friend's house, 
and of the way in which he felt .more at home at Pierre's than 
with his own people. — Pierre has written to Alexander that he 
regards Alexander as "friend, son, and brother, rolled into one." 






TYPICAL NERVOUS DISORDERS 303 

region, the blood-stained water had been allowed to 
flow into the street. The woman who had just been 
confined was the mother-in-law of Alexander's sister. 

We are certainly reliving the CEdipus drama, but 
in this case the mother is at fault. The son does 
not make advances; she makes them, and he is as- 
tonished by them. Nevertheless, when Alexander 
was asked for associations to the words ^*she threw 
herself into his arms," he said: ^*The little child 
runs to its mother's arm,s." We seem to see re- 
vealed here a complex which the subject condemns, 
and from which he is now liberating himself. 

Alexander, in the dream, was ** greatly aston- 
ished" by the widow's advances. The associations 
to this were : 

Injustice. To protect the culprit one loves ; the at- 
titude of the mother to the child. Remhiiscences of 
acts of injustice suffered through strictness (acts of 
paternal injustice). 

Asked for associations to the word ''disorder," 
the subject recalls that his father was greatly put 
out by disorder, by untidiness of any sort. In the 
dream he takes vengeance for his father's strictures 
and tantrums. The father was dead, and, though 
there was ** terrible disorder," he could no longer 
protest. 

Here are the associations of the ''head in the bas- 
ket": 

St. John the Baptist's head. The church of St. 
John in his native village. Here there is a picture 



304 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

showing St. John's head in a charger. The church has 
heen rebuilt. Between the demolished church and the 
new church there is a passage, and as a child Alex- 
ander was terribly afraid of this place. 

Apropos of '* terror,'' lie adds that he used to be 
very timid. He was greatly impressed by stories 
of the *^black man" (image of the father). Ques- 
tioned about the ** rebuilt church/' he went on: 

The house in the dream may perhaps have been the 
house where his mother was born. — The house where 
Alexander himself was born has been rebuilt; the old 
house and the new ; the two lives, that of the child and 
that of the grown-up. — How he used to enjoy being at 
church when he was a little boy. — ^Later he had a crisis 
which destroyed his faith. But later still he became 
religious once more, in a wider sense. — His mother had 
had religious inclinations, but not his father (though 
the father ultimately grew religious) . When Alex- 
ander was a child, his father had never gone to church. 
The father was a man of action; it was while he had 
been mayor of the village that the building of the new 
church had been completed. 

The subject has told us what these two churches 
were, that they signified the life of the child and the 
life of the grown-up. The former is linked to the 
idea of the mother; the latter to the idea of the 
father and of ''activity." Alexander has never 
completely broken away from the life of childhood ; 
the ''passage between the churches" alarms him; 
lie has not really traversed it. In other subjects I 



TYPICAL NERVOUS DISORDERS 305 

have encountered like symbols to his ** passage*' for 
the expression of a similar crisis ; ^ the same remark 
applies to the symbol of the old house and the new. 

Apropos of the same images, Alexander recalls 
his fear of the cemetery. Before his mother's death 
he used to like seeing funeral processions and to be 
shown dead people. But after she died, he could 
no longer bear such things. In the evening, as soon 
as the lamp had been lit, he found it impossible to 
remain alone in the room. He was terror-stricken, 
and was obsessed by his mother's image; subse- 
quently this image was transformed into an image 
of the witch, of the ** dread mother." 

The ^* crape veil" over the widow's face reminded 
him of his girl playmate ; he pictured her in mourn- 
ing after her brother's death, although he had never 
seen her thus. At bottom, presumably, he fancies 
her in mourning for himself, for he loved her like 
a sister. The condensation of this girl with the 
widow suggests a link between the love for his girl 
playmate and his attachment to his mother. Such 
a love, readily idealised, is fairly characteristic of a 
young man affected with the ^^(Edipus complex." 
This, doubtless, was the attitude of Dante towards 
Beatrice ; and I have shown that it was probably the 
attitude of Verhaeren.^ 

Alexander tells me that, except for his old play- 
mate, the women with whom he has been in love 
have always been older than himself; once only has 

^ See pp. 209-10, the case of Gerard and the symbol of the road 
by the sea. 

2 See my forthcoming study, Psychoanalysis and .Esthetics. 



306 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

lie been on intimate terms with a woman of his own 
age ; she was a mother. The unconscious search for 
a woman whose type will harmonise with that of the 
maternal ** imago" is obvious here. 

Love for woman qua woman has been repressed. 
The person who accompanies Alexander in the 
dream is first of all a mere wraith about which he 
is not sure; later it seems to be Pierre's niece, a 
girl who says she cannot love anyone and that she 
**does not feel like a woman." This wraith dis- 
appears as soon as the widow comes upon the stage. 
The image of the mother has put that of the other 
woman to flight. 

The rupture with the girl playmate is, as usual 
in such cases, ostensibly brought about by reasons 
that are quite inadequate. The true but hidden 
reason is that the beloved would cease to be the 
sister (she is *4n mourning for her brother"), and 
that the ideal love would pass into the realm of 
realities. 

It is necessary to point out how, once more, sexual 
reality is linked with '* reality" in general, with out- 
ward activity. (The father is a ^*man of action.") 
A significant fact is that the nervous disorders be- 
gin to affect Alexander after a check in his career, 
and that they become fully developed as a sequel 
to a sentimental check (the rupture with his old 
playmate). The two checks are one. They express 
the same failure of adaptation to ** reality." 

Alexander reported three dreams occurring in one 
night. In the first dream, he had visions of old 
women chiding and grimacing; of heavy shoes, the 



TYPICAL NERVOUS DISORDERS 307 

laces of wbicli were iron chains. The subject still 
felt himself to be a prisoner. 

In the second dream Alexander saw one of his 
little brothers, son of the step-mother. They had 
to go down a mountain road; night was falling. 
Alexander said to himself, in the dream : 

II. "If I were alone, I could go down all right; but 
I have to look after my brother.'' 

Seized with fear, he awoke. Apropos of the last 
phrase, he thought; 

'^If I were alone, if my father had not married 
again, I should have no difficulty in carrying on my 
studies; I should have more money." 

He thinks also that he was *' inclined to be tyran- 
nical" towards his younger brother, whose education 
he had taken in hand. This implies that he had 
assumed towards the little brother his father's atti- 
tude towards himself. His aim in adopting an 
educational career was to become an educational 
reformer in his own part of the world; this would 
have been a way of getting even with his father, 
and of making a protest against the education he 
had received. 

Apropos of this dream he also recalls a reminis- 
cence of childhood. 

III. His father strikes him, lifts him, and throws 
him down. Later, in the visions of his neurosis, he 
sometimes found himself looking at a fine view, and 
fell from a height. 



308 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

This is associated in tlie dream with a feeling of 
fear, and with the vertigo experienced in high 
places. No doubt we are on the track of the cause 
of his obsession about the movement of the earth. 

A little later, in fact, Alexander went on to tell 
me that in childhood his conception of God was based 
upon the image of his own father. He had no idea 
of God as love, but only of God as a tyrant, as Jeho- 
vah. He added that for him the ^^fear that the 
earth will fall" was vaguely associated with the re- 
ligious sentiment. In childhood he considered that 
**God must have done terrible things, for God is 
terrible.'' At this period he was affected with a 
metaphysical curiosity which found satisfaction in 
myths : 

Kain is God going for a drive in his cloud chariot. 
God has a watering-pot which he fills at a cistern. 
When he empties the watering-pot, it rains. 

The sense of vertigo induced by the thought that 
the earth will fall would seem to be the outcome of a 
similar mythical transposition. God is the dread 
father. He has lifted the world as Alexander's 
father lifted the little boy. And God has thrown 
the world into the void. 

As to his disquietudes concerning the little brother 
(Alexander's inclination to tyrannise over him; the 
feeling that the little brother is a nuisance, a re- 
striction of his own powers) they are real enough. 
But the dream masks something more. When he is 
asked for associations, * kittle brother" calls up 



TYPICAL NERVOUS DISORDERS 309 

*^ little demon"; and the word '* demon*' is further 
associated with ^^ sexual organ." This little demon 
is a sinister and satanic power. We glimpse here 
once more the condensation which psychoanalysts 
have so often detected, that of the ** sexual organ" 
with the ^ kittle brother" or the '^ child." The re- 
pressive attitude towards the little brother repre- 
sents a repression of sexuality. The idea of the 
** demon" which is a nuisance and which involves a 
restriction of power leads us to the subject's un- 
easiness concerning masturbation. But on this 
point we shall learn more from the third of the three 
consecutive dreams. 

IV. A deal table. The Kaiser is seated at the table, 
and with him is General N., who in the dream is chief 
of the general staff. . . . The Kaiser smiles triumph- 
antly, saying: **The game is in my hands now. Bul- 
garia, Grreeee, and Turkey are on my side." But then 
he begins to weep. Alexander is pleased to see the 
Kaiser weep, but he says to himself: *'Are the Ger- 
mans still at their spying?" 

** Table" suggests a *^ counter in a bank" — and 
the money troubles which passed through his mind 
a moment ago in connection with the ** little 
brother." The ** Kaiser" represents the *' tyranni- 
cal father." Apropos, Alexander recalls that when 
he was thirteen or fourteen years old he was at a 
meal when his father was present. All at once he 
left the table without apparent reason, and, barely 
conscious of what he was doing, practised masturba- 
tion. He has a vague sense that this ridiculous 



310 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

action was in some obscure way a protest against 
the father. To the words *^the game is in my 
hands" [in the French, **je les tiens"] came the 
association "I hold if [je le tiens] ; the **penis"; 
** masturbation;'' 

** Spying by the Germans'' is the paternal espion- 
age. Furthermore, '* espionage" calls up the sound 
^ * sp, " and the two letters * ' s " and ^ * p " ; the former 
suggests the ^ ^female organ," the latter suggests 
the *^male organ." The two letters also suggest 
**two demons." 

Among these various associations, those at least 
concerning the ** little brother" and the ** demons" 
do not appear to have been suggested by theories 
previously known to the subject. Alexander did not 
recall having heard anything anent Freud's observa- 
tions on this particular point. 

Apropos of ** general staff" came the following 
associations : 

Something absurd. General Ludendorf ; his name; 
ludere is the Latin for **to play" ; Dorf is the German 
for "village"; native village. A militarist state. '*I 
am a pacifist; I have a contempt for officers." A dis- 
tressing thought that everywhere army officers are 
more highly esteemed than savants. 

Here, as elsewhere, the repression of the combat- 
ive instinct is linked with sexual repressions and 
with protest against the father. The Kaiser, the 
*^ officer," is the father; the *' savant" is Alexander 
himself. 



TYPICAL NERVOUS DISORDERS 311 

This analysis, which has stirred the depths, 
caused, as sometimes happens in such cases, tem- 
porary excitement. ** Visions*' recurred; ** de- 
mons'' and animals. In these visions, male figures 
were more frequently seen than of yore; they en- 
croached upon the images of the '* dread mother." 
We shall see in a moment that this presaged the 
transition to homosexual fantasies. A kind of 
doubling of the consciousness now became manifest ; 
while part of the consciousness was a prey to the 
images, the other part was a tranquil observer. 
This was a new feature, and it reassured the sub- 
ject. Besides, the crisis only lasted for about 
twenty-four hours. On subsequent evenings, an 
autosuggestion sufficed to restore mental calm. 

With the following dream, we definitely reach a 
new phase of the analysis. The maternal complex 
is no longer in the foreground, for its place has been 
taken by homosexual fantasies. 

V. As in most of the dreams previously recorded, 
Alexander does not know exactly where he is. Travel- 
ling, presumably. An accident. The engine is com- 
ing. A young man wishes to cross the rails. He has 
not the time. Alexander is frightened. He watches 
the young man, who only just misses being crushed. 
He sees him from behind, with two oval holes in the 
seat of his trousers. He says to himself: **I wonder 
if he has money enough to buy another pair of 
trousers ? * ' 

* * Accident ' ' suggests * ' moral rebuff. " * * Engine ' ' 
gives the following associations: 



312 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

Terrible. When Alexander was a little boy, he was 
always afraid of railway engines. Especially of the 
headlights glowing like two eyes. It was ''God look- 
ing at me.'' He wanted to go to confession to the 
engine. 

In further conversation, the holes in the seat of 
the trousers are associated with *^ homosexuality''; 
and once more with the **two eyes of the railway 
engine. *' It is just as in dream IV, the supervision 
exercised by the ** tyrannical father," ^^ German 
espionage." It is also the ** dread God." In addi- 
tion, it is a homosexual fantasy, a continuation of 
the masturbation reminiscence which was one of the 
associations to dream IV. 

In his objective life, the subject has never been 
homosexual. He merely has the virtual tendency 
towards homosexuality which is usual in connection 
with the CEdipus complex and the repression of 
sexuality. The tendency displays itself as blame- 
worthy, as *^ censored." The concluding associa- 
tions show this. 

The seat of Ms trousers. Something injurious to 
society. 

To huy anotJier pair of trousers. Falsehood. The 
injustice of society. Society uses money to hide its 
ugliness. 

Hole. Little windows through which one can look 
at ugliness. 

Once only we get back to the maternal complex, 
in the following association : 



TYPICAL NERVOUS DISORDERS 313 

Crushed. The sound ''cr , . ." Tearing. The 
hole out of which a child comes. 



The word *^ rails'' suggests ^ things running." 
The words ^'he has not the time" call up the arrest 
which the subject feels to have taken place in his 
own; development (owing to his attachment to the 
mother, and to infantile feelings), and the need that 
he should accelerate this development. He feels 
that the analysis is itself the necessary acceleration 
of development. 

At the close of the analysis of this dream, he re- 
calls another dream, quite short and definitely homo- 
sexual. 

VI. A man (apparently rather old). Viewed from 
behind, naked, leaning well forward. The upper part 
of the body cannot be seen. But the genital organs are 
visible (they recall the two oval holes in the seat of 
the trousers of the man seen in dream V). 

Apropos, the subject feels impelled to say that 
in sexual relationship he is not averse to being 
''underneath." He goes on to speak of the religious 
sentiment. As a child he had been fond of pictur- 
ing the joy and suffering of a martyr. He had been 
told that at Easter the Jews killed children and 
drank their blood. He took a particular pleasure 
in imagining himself to be a child thus treated; or 
in imagining himself as in the position of Regulus, 
rolled in a cask studded inside with nails. — All this 
reveals homosexuality tinged with masochism. 



314 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

Furthermore, the latent homosexual trend must 
have undergone subconscious fixation upon the 
father. This would explain the man in dream VI 
** apparently rather old.'' In dream V it would 
explain the association of the two indecent ovals 
with the eyes of the railway engine, which are the 
father's eyes. In this way we probe to its recesses 
the nature of the infantile attitude towards the 
tyrannical father, and consequently towards the 
dread God. Here we have something more than a 
counterpart to the attachment to the mother. We 
have also a homosexual — masochist disposition, a 
voluptuous delight in suffering inflicted hy the 
father f a feeling which tends to undergo sublimation 
into a voluptuous delight in suffering inflicted hy 
God. The vertigo connected with the idea of the 
earth's movement (to which the subject refers once 
more at this stage) is the symbol of the same volup- 
tuousness, and it has a kinship with his childhood 
fantasy of being rolled in the barrel of Regulus. 

We reach the third and last stage of the analysis, 
the transition from homosexual fantasies to fan- 
tasies of normal sexuality, and therewith, the transi- 
tion to extroversion. The subject thus passes 
through the three stages of evolution described by 
Freud. (Alexander does not recall having ever 
heard about this theory.) 

The subject's resistance was peculiarly strong 
at the time of this decisive transition. Alexander 
did not keep his appointment for the sitting at which 
the dream next to be recorded ought to have been 



TYPICAL NERVOUS DISORDERS 315 

analysed. *'By a slip of memory'' lie had made 
another appointment for the hour at which this an- 
alysis was to have taken place; and he was aware 
that the ^ * slip of memory ' ' was a mask for a secret 
wish. The dream was analysed several days after 
I had written up the notes on it. By that time, 
some of the important details had vanished from the 
subject's conscious memory. *^Were it not that I 
trust you implicitly I should have believed that you 
had invented them." Finally, while giving asso- 
ciations to the close of the dream, Alexander had the 
impression that he was 'Splaying," that he was be- 
ing shifty, that he was hiding something. I there- 
fore decided to go on to the *^ second degree," that 
is, to ask for fresh associations, taking as pointers 
the inferences from the first associations. We were 
compensated for our trouble by the results of this 
painstaking analysis. Here is the dream: 

VII. Alexander was with one of his brothers in a 
large room. In front of him, there was a circle on the 
floor. It was an animal, a little snake curled up ; its 
scales were of a shiny black. Alexander looked at it 
with interest,* but when he noticed the scales, he was 
frightened. He crushed it. Immediately there ap- 
peared another snake, like the first, but twice as large. 
Alexander was afraid. He said to his brother: **Kill 
it; I can^t stand it." The brother did so. [But now 
there appeared a third snake, a great deal larger than 
the second. His brother cut the snake into three 
pieces. Alexander was surprised to see how easy this 
was. The head reared itself and looked at him, al- 
though it was dead. It was like a dog's head.l 



316 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

(While telling me about the three pieces, Alexan- 
der made a sketch of them, in order to explain their 
relative positions. We were both astonished to find 
that, involuntarily, he had drawn an excellent like- 
ness of a child ^s head.) 

Additional snakes now appeared. The last one was 
positively colossal. His brother killed them all, one 
after another. But, when confronted by the last of the 
snakes, Alexander was alone. He was in the street. 
He said to himself: *'Is it worth while killing this 
one?" Then the snake fell to pieces. All the scales 
became absurd little cooking-pots. The dreamer 
awoke, laughing. 

(It was the section between brackets which had 
been forgotten when we came to make the analysis. 
From the asterisk onwards, the subject had the im- 
pression that he was * Splaying'' when giving the 
associations.) 

The ** brother'' in this dream is the eldest brother, 
inclined to be jealous and to ^^ tyrannise'' over 
Alexander (a substitute for the father). '* Circle" 
suggests *^the earth turning," and this brings us 
back to *^ vertigo"; the ^^ snake" (a symbol which is 
familiar to all psychoanalysts) suggests ** devil" 
and brings us back to the ** demons." The series 
of associations to '* scales" is peculiar. 

Harsh; his eldest brother. The sound "k." Cain. 
Alexander thinks that his brother was Cain and that 
he himself was Abel. 



TYPICAL NERVOUS DISORDERS 317 

All this opening section of the dream is perfectly 
clear; we are still in the realm of homosexual fan- 
tasies tinged with masochism. But now there be- 
gins a different series, a strange one, which rounds 
off the whole. The word ^^ crushes'' (which, by the 
way, reminds us of the railway engine in V) calls 
up: 

Music. A fragment from ''The Danaides.'' The 
conclusion terrified Alexander. It was ''crushing." 
He had a feeling of vengeance and justice. The 
music gave him a vision of the dread Jehovah. 

This brings us back again to the eyes of the rail- 
way engine, and, by way of the bottomless vessel of 
the Danaides, to the barrel of Regulus, and to the 
vertigo aroused by the sense of a bottomless abyss. 

But it is from this point that Alexander begins to 
think that he is playing, that he is becoming shifty. 
And it is precisely from this point that the dream 
begins to teach us something new. We end by secur- 
ing three very definite results. 

The "three pieces" of the snake, first call up 
** trinity," and then *^the three parts of the penis. ^' 
The child's head, drawn by the subconscious, first 
suggests **my little brother,' and then "my desire 
to become a father." In addition, the child's head 
recalls a picture which was in the old village church, 
a picture of St. George killing the dragon. But at 
this point the subject remembers that the dragon in 
the picture had a dog's head, the head which the 
snake in his dream had reared, and which he had 
up till now forgotten. 



318 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

The dead head suggests '' vengeance ^ ^ and *' ven- 
geance upon the father/' (Compare this with the 
severed head in dream I.) '^Vengeance," in its 
turn, calls up ** corpse," and the dead hody of a 
neighbour whose' son had taught Alexander to mas- 
turbate. (Here we have the motif of IV.) There 
is superadded the reminiscence of an exhibitionist 
incident during adolescence. These memories are 
distressing, being tinged with remorse. 

But the subject has the definite impression of 
having won a victory, of having made a great step 
forward. St. George has slain the dragon.^ The 
instinct, which had been inclined to enter devious 
paths, has been led into the straight road; it is 
wholesome, but it is not the crude instinct, it is sub- 
limated; the ^* demon" has given place to the 
** child." Sexuality justifies itself, moralises itself, 
in its aspirations towards a family. Furthermore, 
Alexander thinks it possible that he has sublimated 
his desire for ** vengeance upon his father" by 
transforming it into a **wish to become a father," 
this being, in fact, an innocenlj way of ^ taking the 
father's place.'* 

From this moment, not only did the symptoms 
disappear, but an inward harmony was established; 
the best elements of Alexander's mind had been 
awakened; his aspirations were lofty, genial and 
wholesome. The subject now wanted to marry. 
Since the last steps forward had been made in the 

1 Cf. in my study Psychoanalysis and Esthetics, the analysis 
of Verhaeren's poem "Saint Georges," an analogous symbol. 



TYPICAL NERVOUS DISORDERS 319 

analysis lie had fallen in love with a young French- 
woman, and he said: *^This is the first time that 
I have really been in love." Here is one of the 
dreams of this final stage : 

VIII. Alexander was in a small room. Suddenly 
there came a noise, and a burglar appeared, threaten- 
ing him. Alexander remained calm, and said: '*My 
good fellow, what do you want? There's my coat 
on the chair; take my pocketbook; I have only fifty 
francs; you can have them.'' — ^But now it seemed to 
him. that the burglar was asleep and then awoke from 
a nightmare, saying: *'IVe been frightened." Alex- 
ander asked why. The burglar answered: ** Didn't 
you see those two people ? ' ' Then, behind the burglar, 
he saw a man clothed in iron, who at first seemed to 
be dead, but then moved. Alexander said : * 'You need 
not be afraid of this man." The other figure was 
merely a black shade which disappeared; he had the 
feeling that it was his mother. 

The associations showed that the burglar was my- 
self. The burglar who has broken into Alexander 's 
mind, has now been accepted, and the victim greets 
him cordially. The '^coat on the chair" gave the 
following association: **I have cast off the old 
Adam." The old Adam has been indued by the 
analyst, and perhaps this is why, in the latter part 
of the dream, the subject has changed roles with 
the burglar. The ^ ^ fifty francs ' ' calls up ' * French. ' ' 
The young woman he is in love with is French. I 
am also of French nationality, and the subject had 
actually sent me fifty francs shortly before by way 



320 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

of fee. In the original image of these ^' fifty French 
francs/' the acceptance of the analyst has been con- 
densed with the acceptance of normal love and mar- 
riage, Thev shadow which vanishes is the symbolical 
*^ mother/' is the (Edipus complex and introversion; 
the dead man who revives is the '^father," is re- 
pressed virility and extroversion. 

Henceforward the dreams express confidence, 
Alexander's conviction that he will '^do good work," 
and his feeling that the analysis is finished. Espe- 
cially notable is it that in one of these dreams 
Alexander had gone to see his uncle the doctor, who 
is condensed with myself. In the course of the as- 
sociations to this dream, came the following: 

My uncle said: **You have come to consult me, not 
to see me.'* I answered: *'I don't need to consult 
you any more." 

The play was really over. A marriage would 
have been an appropriate ending, but this was not 
to be. The young Frenchwoman Avas engaged to 
somebody else, and Alexander had to give up all 
thoughts of her. He passed through a distressing 
crisis, and was afraid for a time that his symptoms 
would return. But his fears were groundless, and 
he triumphed in this final struggle without having 
felt that the earth was spinning too quickly beneath 
his feet. 

The analysis had lasted three months, and, by the 
end of it, burglar and burgled had become good 
friends. 



TYPICAL NERVOUS DISORDERS 321 

2, Roger 

PSYCHASTHENIA. IMPOTENCE. 

Roger is an intellectual, thirty years of age. A 
typical introvert, he has cultivated the faculty of 
introspection, and this will frequently help us in 
the course of our analysis. 

He was ten years old when his father died. His 
mother was of a very nervous temperament, and she 
brought him up rather strictly. There was strong 
fixation upon the mother. Since childhood this fix- 
ation has been attended by a distaste for the virile 
aspects of life, a dislike for outdoor recreations, and 
even for all games except those of an imaginative 
character. Roger is extremely timid. In addition, 
he is inclined to be idle; he lacks power of concen- 
tration, is fond of reverie, and is averse to reality 
and to mathematics. Roger thinks that this morbid 
condition has existed since early childhood, but that 
his mother's treatment of him made it much worse. 
He is aware that he has an individualist tendency, 
which has also been marked since early years, ac- 
companied by a strong dislike for any form of ^ * dis- 
cipline" — first that of an athletic club, and then 
that of military service. He has the same dislike 
for religious ceremonies and dogmas, and displays a 
tendency towards mysticism and introspective an- 
alysis. There has been and still is a conflict in his 
mind between *' pantheism" and **personalism" in 
religion, a distressing conflict, from which he would 
fain be freed. (No doubt the explanation of this 



322 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

pulling hither and thither is that Eoger is attracted 
to pantheism by his individualist hostility to dogma, 
but that a pantheist god is less congenial to his in- 
dividualism than a personal god would be.) The 
subject displays a maladaptation to social life, espe- 
cially manifest in the difficulty he has found in choos- 
ing a profession. Roger has artistic ambitions ; his 
studies were interrupted by the war; he has little 
inclination to resume them, and does not really know 
what to work at. 

Moreover, he finds mental work difficult, for he is 
neurasthenic, and his condition has been aggravated 
by the war and by internment in a German concen- 
tration camp (he is a Frenchman). He fancies that 
his ailments are connected with the troubles of his 
sexual life. 

The nature of sexuality was explained to him 
when he was about twelve years old by two school- 
fellows. Immediately, sexual desire became appar- 
ent; it was ** powerful, and indeed almost morbid 
in its intensity." Since then he has masturbated 
daily, and has also had homosexual relationships. 
In masturbation, and in all perverse acts, he * ' plays 
the woman's parf When he was nineteen he had 
his first experience of heterosexual relations, but 
lacked potency. The impotence persisted in subse- 
quent attempts, and the sexual act could only be 
completed after masturbation. Following the in- 
judicious advice of a medical man, he became in- 
fected with gonorrhoea. 

On two occasions he has had love passions of an 
exalted character. The first was when he was fif- 



TYPICAL NERVOUS DISORDERS 323 

teen, and fell in love with a girl of twelve ; but sex- 
ual desire became tbe predominant element in his 
feeling, and ^'desire killed love." The other pas- 
sion, which was of an extremely respectful charac- 
ter, originated during his internment, when he fell 
in love with a German woman of high attainments 
and great moral worth, whose qualities harmonised 
with those of the maternal imago. He deliberately- 
suppressed sexual desire. Generally speaking, 
in Roger, love and sexual desire are dissociated. 
Love, to him, seems exalted; whereas sexual desire 
seems coarse and perverted. 

The consciousness of impotence, he says, increases 
his timidity in relation to girls. For a long time 
the feeling that he is abnormal in this respect made 
him very unhappy, and would still make him very 
unhappy were it not that the feeling of physical 
weakness, and the distress on account of the neuras- 
thenia which makes all attempts to work fruitless, 
are now predominant. He is sure that sexual im- 
potence and general psychasthenic impotence ^*are 
of the same nature.'^ 

Roger related to me some reminiscences of child- 
hood, full of experience and of meaning. First of 
all came a fine symbol of attachment to the mother 
and of introversion. Roger is always delighted 
when he sees the *' outer world" being obliterated. 

I. A winter day. It is snowing. A bright fire ia 
burning. I am about four years old. A sense of 
security, of enwrapping affection, of things surround- 



324 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

ing me ; Mother enters singing. ... I run to the win- 
dow to watch the snow falling, to see it covering every- 
thing up, and to enjoy the mysterious way in which 
the sounds from without are being muffled. 

Among the symbols of introversion, there may 
also be mentioned a reminiscence containing the 
common fantasy of the loss of a precious object by 
immersion (the motif of the Ehine gold). 

II. Every morning they used to put me on the 
chamber-pot; while sitting there I would count my 
fortune, a dozen sous; one day I let all the coins fall 
into the receptacle. The whole household was sum- 
moned by my cries. All my fortune was in the pot. 
They comforted me, and. the cook undertook to clean 
the coppers, so that they shone like gold. 

To the same order of ideas belongs a third remi- 
niscence. Like the second it contains an immersion 
fantasy; while it recalls the first, in that the outer 
world was disappearing and that the child's face 
**was glued to the window." The floods were out: 

III. The town was under water; our house stood 
a little higher than the rest, and was not affected; 
but the garden was flooded, and people were using 
boats in the streets. I did not go to school during 
these days, but spent the time with my face glued 
to the window, almost as happy as our seagull with 
the clipped wing, which was delighted with the flood. 

The *' seagull with the clipped wing" would seem 
to be a fantasy of impotence, both in the narrower 



TYPICAL NERVOUS DISORDERS 325 

and in the wider senses of this term. This impotence 
is closely linked with introversion. The child is 
happy to escape from the outer world, from reality 
and from school, just as later he will subconsciously 
endeavour to escape from his studies, from profes- 
sional work (while as far as consciousness is con- 
cerned he continues to make futile efforts to devote 
himself to them). 

The submergence of the town certainly symbolises 
a loss of the ^'function of the real." We are not 
surprised to find that, apropos of this reminiscence, 
without transition, and without any logical tie, 
Roger reports feelings of vmreality, 

IV. I should like also to mention a strange feeling 
I often had when returning home at night after a walk, 
or after a journey in which I had been lulled to sleep 
by the movement of the train or of the carriage. To 
my reason, the things and the places were the same as 
they had always been ; but as far as feeling was con- 
cerned they were different, they were strange to me. 
I have long been subject to such feelings. . . . 

This also happens when I perform certain actions. 
I sometimes feel as if I had done precisely the same 
thing before, and in the same circumstances, although 
I know perfectly well I have done nothing of the 
kind. 

In childhood I have often asked myself: *'Why am 
I myself? What is this me? Why should I be this 
sort of creature, which seems quite uninteresting, and 
yet apparently has a part to play in the world ? ' ' 

Here we have a salient instance of the feeling 
which Bergson has brilliantly analysed, the feeling 



326 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

of ^ * false recognition, ' ' the feeling that we have pre- 
viously experienced something we are now experi- 
encing for the first time, a feeling of the enfeeble- 
ment of the function of the real.^ The reader should 
likewise note how the feeling of unreality succeeds 
a sense of being ^^ lulled," of being as it were rocked 
in a cradle, a feeling naturally associated with the 
idea of the mother. We are moving in a circle com- 
prised of introversion, detachment from the real, 
fixation upon the mother. Once more, the remi- 
niscence that follows seems a natural sequel. 

V. When my father and mother were quarrelling, 
my father would sometimes raise his voice. My mother 
wept, and that made me take her side. 

Here is a reminiscence which seems very strange 
at first sight. 

VI. A banker who was a political opponent of my 
father, committed suicide, as an outcome of a fraudu- 
lent bankruptcy. Anything crooked in money matters 
produced in me a sense of disgust and anxiety which 
often lasted for a long time. 

This feeling can only be explained by a condensa- 
tion of *^ crookedness" in money matters with other 
** crooked" things of a more intimate character. 
We are put on the track by the fact that the banker 
in question was **an opponent of my father," and 
that this incident immediately follows Eoger's 
avowal **I took my mother's side." We have 

^Bergson, yenergie spirituelle. 



TYPICAL NERVOUS DISORDERS 327 

definitely entered the sphere of the CEdipus com- 
plex. As invariably happens, this complex is asso- 
ciated with the repression of sexuality. The analy- 
sis apparently forces us to assimilate the ^^fraudu- 
lent bankruptcy" with *^ sexual perversion," which 
is a ^^ crooked" means of escape.^ We may recall 
that the condensation of sexual affairs with mone- 
tary affairs is quite common. 

Here is an interesting reminiscence which illus- 
trates Roger's feelings towards his father. It was 
at the time of the father's death, and the child had 
gone to stay with relatives. 

VII. I felt weU at ease, surrounded by sympathy; 
I forgot my father, and I smiled. After the funeral 
I returned home. I had got quite used to the idea 
that I should not see my father again. There was a 
family dinner at my aunt's. I asked: ''Who are the 
heirs?" 

The elder brother, in this case as in others,^ is a 
substitute for the father; and, like the father, he 
represents the virility and the reality which the sub- 
ject renounces. 

VIII. My brother (who had hitherto been away at 
the commercial school, and, subsequently, during mili- 
ta/ry service) had returned home. . . . He inspired me 
with fear rather then with affection. He was a good 
fellow, 'practical and objectively inclined, fond of 

^ Cf . in Alexander's ease, the masturbation which was practised 
as an irrational protest against the father (p. 309). 
2 Cf. the cases of Otto and Alexander. 



328 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

sport, the sort of man who alwm/s falls on his feet; 
but ... we had nothing in common. 

I italicise the character traits of the brother, 
which Eoger mentioned spontaneously, for his 
phrases give a pithy description of the extroversion 
(*^ objectively inclined") which he shuns for him- 
self. We know his dislike for ** military service" 
and for social life. The ^'commercial school," 
which is a preparation for the realistic side of life, 
is equally repugnant to him. He was always a 
dreamer, and he was not happy even at school. We 
have learned this already from reminiscence III. 

IiX. At school I did little work and dreamed a great 
deal. I did not understand mathematics at all, and 
I was never able to do a sum in division. . . . When 
I was asked to explain a passage too difficult for me, 
I would burst into tears. . . . But I was fond of the 
French lesson. 

The school belonged to the outward and social life 
which the introvert shuns. Here is a description of 
Eoger 's feelings on Thursdays and Sundays. 

X. The day was always utterly spoiled for me by 
the prospect of meeting the boarders out walking. 
This was a perfect torture to me, partly because of 
an insuperable timidity, and partly because of other 
feelings which I have never succeeded in analysing. 

When our analysis had shown the connection of 
these '* other feelings" with the fundamental com- 
plex, with the refusal of virility and with the 



TYPICAL NERVOUS DISORDERS 329 

'^fraudulent bankruptcy/^ the subject was satisfied 
with the explanation, and imagined that we had 
really unravelled that which, hitherto, he had ** never 
succeeded in analysing" — although there was still 
left a confused impression that there was something 
to be discovered. 

Here is another reminiscence of school life. 

XI. Personally, most of the masters were kindly, 
but the discipline was harsh. . . . We went on with 
our studies until seven o'clock. ... I had a particular 
dislike for this evening work, for the four o'clock 
spell of recreation, and for games. I hated all the 
games. I was afraid of the balls, of being hit. My 
schoolfellows' brutality, or rather their superabun- 
dance of life, made me shrink into my shell, and I was 
cold at heart during these grey winter amuse- 
ments. , . . 

Throughout the period of my school life I had 
schoolmates but no friends. Sometimes, when we were 
playing hide-and-seek, I would hide myself so effect- 
ively with a book that my playmates, weary of looking 
for me, would give up the attempt. 

His mother coddled him. 

XII. Almost every year I had slight attacks of 
bronchitis. My mother . . . was inclined to overrate 
their importance. She made me keep my room longer 
than was necessary. In winter she dressed me much 
too warmly instead of hardening me. 

We must interpret all this in a moral sense as well 
as in a physical. 



330 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

A close association with the mother continued 
until he was nearly grown up, and this was connected 
with a new fantasy of the refusal of virility. 

XIII. I went on sleeping in my mother's room 
until I was fourteen years old. I slept in a girVs 
mghtgown over mif day shirt and also in a flannel 
waistcoat. I wore a girVs nightcap. 

This intimacy was troubled by occasional storms, 
but they invariably ended in an affectionate recon- 
ciliation. 

XIV. I was beginning to answer back. I wanted 
always to have the last word, and my mother found 
this exasperating. Sometimes she got into such a ter- 
rible rage that she seemed ready to break everything 
in the room. At the end of these quarrels I was ter- 
rified, broken, annihilated. But when my mother had 
calmed down, she felt remorseful, and she would come 
and put her arms round me in my bed. 

Despite this intense fixation upon the maternal 
imago, the conscious attachment to the mother had 
long ceased to preponderate. A displacement of 
feeling towards other persons than the mother had 
begun some time before this. In especial, Eoger 
had great affection for a girl friend, Maria, three 
years older than himself, who taught him to read. 

XV. I was not particularly affectionate towards my 
mother, nor towards anyone else. But on rainy days 
and in the evening I felt an inclination to nestle up 
against Maria, and to go to sleep upon her shoulder. 



TYPICAL NERVOUS DISORDERS 331 

We have here one of the childish passions which 
appear to be common accompaniments of the mater- 
nal complex/ This attachment cooperates with the 
attachment to the mother in its tendency to distract 
the child from rough games, and from virile amuse- 
ments in general. It helps to confirm him in his 
predilection for the contemplative life. Maria had 
taught him to read. 

XVI. I have already said that I had no inclination 
either for games or for out-of-door sports. I detested 
cards, and still do so ; I did not care either for draughts 
or marbles. But I was fascinated with imaginative 
amusements. I have always beon intensely fond of 
reading, and I dramatised the novels I read and the 
stories Maria told me. 

Here is his description of Sunday. 

XVII. I have mentioned how greatly I feared to 
meet the boarders out walking, for I had a loathing 
for the need to greet people, and I detested a crowd 
in its Sunday best. All this seemed to me desper- 
ately tedious and stupid. Maria and I always did 
our utmost to avoid the infliction (going out for a 
walk), and we were perfectly happy if we were left 
at home in peace to play or to read. 

These two reminiscences, XVI and XVII, embody 
the same theme, and each of them has two aspects : 

1. Refusal of virility and of social life (virile 
sports, the boarders' walk); 

^ Cf . Alexander's case. 



332 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

2. Flight towards tlie girl friend of his childhood, 
towards reading and the contemplative life. 

The contemplative life leads straight towards 
mysticism. As in so many cases of fixation upon 
the mother, young Roger develops a passionate cult 
of the Blessed Virgin. 

XVIII. I had accesses of mysticism, of devotion to 
the Blessed Virgin. In bed sometimes at night I 
would curl myself up, saying my rosary. I loved 
Corpus Christi processions. 

It would seem that the image of his girl friend 
was more intimately connected with this mysticism 
than was the image of his mother (this reminds us 
of the case of Dante and Beatrice). The proces- 
sions conduct us to another procession; that of the 
girls clad in white at the time of Maria's first com- 
munion, a reminiscence which Roger describes as 
one of the most affecting of all his childhood. 

However, Maria, while still quite young, had been 
sent to board in a convent school. This remem- 
brance serves as a symbol to Roger for the repres- 
sion of his childhood's sensibility which was simi- 
larly cloistered, was bound fast to the image of his 
girl companion. He went to see her at the convent, 
and the memory of the visit is associated with that 
of ^4arge, useless fountain basins, nearly dried up, 
witnesses of a lost prosperity." 

These numerous reminiscences have enabled us 
to grasp the fundamental relationships between the 
various symptoms and character traits of the sub- 



TYPICAL NERVOUS DISORDERS 333 

ject. Roger's dreams seem to have been mainly 
determined by his reaction to the analysis, and by 
the tentative movements of his subconscious towards 
health. Here are some fragments of one of these 
regenerative dreams. One of the symbols reminds 
us of the nearly dried-up fountain basins of the rem- 
inescence last mentioned. 

XIX. I had come away from an inn and was at the 
edge of a pond. There was a wedding party, and two 
young fellows, for a lark, were just making ready to 
go into the water — ^for a swim no doubt. . . . Their 
bodies were powdered, like that of a dancer. . . . The 
weather was cold, but I was moved to follow their 
example. I went into the water, but, finding that I 
had no towel, I asked an old man to fetch me one 
from the inn. "When I wished to resume my bath, 
I discovered that the pond had dried up, so that I am 
doubtful if there was even a puddle left where I could 
splash. Then I went to find my mother and my grand- 
mother who were sitting in a shady corner. I told 
them what I had been doing, and they were shocked 
at my foolhardiness. But I told them that although 
the water was extremely cold, so brief a dip was really 
quite wholesome. 

Here we perceive an effort to get away from his 
mother's '* coddling," and to do something manly. 
The **body powdered like that of a dancer'' seems 
akin to the *' girl's nightgown" (XIII). But this 
femininity is superficial; beneath, there is a mascu- 
line torso. **The muscles stood out strongly." 
Besides **the make-up will be washed off; that which 
hides the truth and a wholesome life will disap- 



834j studies in PSYCHOANALYSIS 

pear.'' As for the ''old man/' the association to 
this is ''throw off the old Adam." To "inn" comes 
the association "Switzerland," a place of transit, 
and a health resort as it were after internment in 
the concentration camp. The "pond," he says, was 
"in France." It suggests childhood, a group of 
affects which have undergone fixation upon infan- 
tile objects (like the dried-up basins), and which 
have to be revivified. Furthermore, he wanted to 
bathe because "the tint of the water was exquisite, 
blue or green ; it seemed that the sun was setting in 
the water." This leads the subject to associaite his 
"wish to be braced up" with an "aesthetic" pish. 
Esthetic development would appear to be Icpked 
upon as wholesome. (Other dreams dwell upo]||this 
aspect, and invite the subject to choose activities 
which will satisfy his aesthetic needs.) There is a 
sense of inadequate fulfilment pervading the dream. 
In the next dream we encounter the same symbol 
of France, the same feeling of inadequacy, and per- 
haps (more specifically) of impotence. Military 
images appear, representing virility. 

XX. I am on my way back to France. A huge 
hall. Someone suggests that we should pay for the 
serving of the soup. I refuse. . . . The woman who 
is ladling out the soup serves me after everyone else, 
and gives me only a small helping, because I had 
refused to pay. 

I return to my native haunts. An old harness 
maker cuts me dead; I feel that I am regarded with 
contempt because I was not at the front. I sham a 
limp. 



TYPICAL NERVOUS DISORDERS 335 

I go to the printer's. He says: **I have some letters 
for you. One of them is from Germany, with a book. 
I have read your letters as censor.*' I am annoyed 
at this, for he will have been able to learn about my 
dreams. 

**I sham a limp," like the ''make-up" of the 
previous dream, is connected with other associations 
in vi^hich the subject has an uneasy feeling that his 
condition is a mask; illness seems to him a con- 
venient means of hiding a lack of courage. ' * Serv- 
ing the soup" has as associations * 'military serv- 
ice, " a " disagreeable duty. ' * 

As for the "printer," he is like me; and the allu- 
sion to the dreams shows unmistakably that he sym- 
bolises me. A certain resistance to the analysis 
becomes manifest here. Moreover, the "letter" 
and the "book" are linked with the memory of his 
friend in Germany, the woman who had a beneficial 
influence, a purifying influence, upon him. This 
"purification," just like the aesthetic sentiment a 
moment ago, presents itself as a factor of equilib- 
rium, of health and of cure. It is perfectly plain 
that the dreams are assuming the character of guid- 
ing dreams. 

In some of the dreams the achievement of virility 
is associated either with military symbols or with 
sexual symbols. 

XXI. I dreamed that the infirmary attendant of 
the school I was at in Paris sent me to fetch a bag of 
currants. ... I felt as if it were a fatigue duty in 



336 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

the army. ... In the distance there was a group of 
young men and women. . . . Those in front were 
kneeling or lying down, and were making gestures as 
if they were shooting with bows and arrows. 

The association with ^^bag'' was **two wallets,'* 
and led us to an image of a bodily organ. In the 
same dream appeared the name of one of the mas- 
ters whom Eoger had to consult as to the choice of 
a career. All the aspects of manliness, including 
the choice of a career, find expression here. In the 
next dream, sexuality is more explicit. 

XXII. I consult the wise-woman close to her cot- 
tage. She asks me to show her my genital organs. 
. . . She takes me to a spring and bids me . . . wash 
them. 

Here, as before, there is manifest a desire for 
purification. This is still more plainly disclosed in 
the next dream. 

XXIII. I give a large porker a letter which is to 
warn him of the danger threatening someone dear to 
him. The pig takes me into a little room. There he 
begins to talk to me in Provencal. I find it very diffi- 
cult to follow, so I ask him if he understands Italian. 
He answers in the affirmative, so I reply in Italian, 
interspersed with English words. The pig's wife also 
speaks Provencal, and I can't understand her at all. 
She is like an old shrew painted by Ostade. She is 
ashen grey with the colour laid on thickly. 

From the associations it appears that the 
** porker" is **the lower part of myself," and that 



TYPICAL NERVOUS DISORDERS 337 

*^ someone dear to him" is ''the upper part." To 
''letters" we have the association "dreams" and 
their analysis (cf. XX). The "pig's wife" calls up 
the following : 

Marriage. I must not marry a woman who will 
keep me in the state symbolised by the porker. 

Thoughts concerning the choice of a career are 
likewise disclosed. "Provengal" is linked with 
arduous scientific studies. "Italian" is associated 
with Italian art, of which Roger is very fond; this 
brings us back to the aesthetic tendency, which offers 
a way out of his difficulties. 

We may conclude the account of this case by 
recording two regenerative dreams, which are 
mutually complementary. The first relates to the 
infantile fixations and atrophies, of which the sub- 
ject must become conscious before he can break their 
spell. The second, like the dream about the porker, 
emphasises the distinction between the upper and 
the lower natures, and stresses the need for "puri- 
fication * ' ( sublimation ) . 

XXIV. I am a little girl. I am going to be mar- 
ried. My girl playmates give me a brush made of 
their hair. Each of them has contributed a little of 
her own health to it, so that the united whole is to 
make me thoroughly healthy. 

Here are the associations to the items of this 
dream. 



338 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

I am going to he married. Life with its joys and 
its troubles. A full life which needs an abundance 
of energy. 

Hair. My friend the Grerman woman once said to 
me : "I wish I could take your illness and give you my 
health." Hair reminds me of this friend who had a 
great influence upon me. 

The idea of a brush is connected in my mind with 
that of regeneration. This is because a masseur used 
a brush on me to restore the circulation. 

In this dream, the German woman is condensed 
with the girls with whom he was in love when he 
was a child; she represents the purest feelings he 
has experienced in his life. If *^ marriage" is to 
become possible to him, sexuality must be purified 
until it comes to resemble these feelings. The 
analysis is convincing the subject that his sexual 
troubles have been of accidental and psychic origin 
(due to a distasteful initiation) ; and that a ** puri- 
fication," putting an end to repressions, will enable 
him to get over these troubles. 

XXV. To prove her sincerity, the lady uses up her 
long, black hair day by day until she has none left; 
the brother of her lord undertakes to see that she is 
purified daily in aromatic essences. Eabelais, mean- 
while, is kept prisoner in the neighbouring castle, but 
at length he is allowed to go out provided that he 
keeps at least one hundred yards away from the castle. 
He lives in an inn, surrounded by buffoons and cour- 
tesans, that he may hunt love the more easily. When 
he makes his way through the streets of the town, the 
motley rout which attends him raises a clamour of 



TYPICAL NERVOUS DISORDERS 339 

song and music whicli scandalises the ladies of the 
noblesse. 

The **long black hair" suggests ''Mary Mag- 
dalen" and his ''German lady friend"; it also calls 
np the "brush" of XXIV. To "aromatic essences" 
come the associations: "Goethe's Faust"; "Christ 
is risen." — "Rabelais" calls up "obscenities," and 
brings us back to the "big porker" of XXIII; he is 
repressed sexuality. "At length he is allowed to 
go out," upon terms, these being such that the 
"someone dear to him" (XXIII), though scandal- 
ised perhaps, is at any rate protected from his as- 
saults. As association to the word "purify" comes 
the reflection: "It is true, I need purification." 

We are not entitled to say that equilibrium and 
harmony had been attained at this stage. Sugges- 
tion and psychoanalysis had from the outset been 
practised simultaneously, and although Roger was 
not yet at the end of his troubles, there had been 
considerable progress. The time had now come for 
him to return to France, but the matter could safely 
be left in his own hands. The next time I saw him, 
about two years later, he assured me that he was 
perfectly well. 

3. Germaine 

Spasm of the Eyelid. Fussy Acthtity. 

Germaine is a woman of forty-nine, of peasant or- 
igin, a widow, and childless. She has suffered from 
a spasm of the right eyelid "for fifteen years at 



340 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

least." This is what she says at first. Then she 
remembers that the spasm began in the year fol- 
lowing her mother's death. At length her memory 
becomes more precise. A year after her mother's 
death, on the anniversary, she went home in order 
to visit the grave; it was then that people pointed 
out to her that she had the spasm. It has been 
treated unsuccessfully with bromides; electricity 
was likewise tried, but had no effect. 

Germaine also suffers from a persistent condition 
of restlessness, of nervous uneasiness. She is al- 
ways fussily active, haviag a feeling that she is be- 
hind time and must hurry up. The condition is 
often accompanied by *^ neurasthenic ideas." 

The first dream subjected to analysis was con- 
cerned with the before-mentioned anniversary of 
her mother's death. 

I. On the shore of the lake. She saw a large boat 
which splashed her with dirty, greyish water, like 
melting snow. The water rose; she was surrounded 
by it. Someone called to her : ' ' Climb up here. ' ' 

The ** melting snow" appeared to be the centre 
of gravity of this dream. It called up the first an- 
niversary, when Germaine went home. But she 
could not go to the cemetery, because of the dirty, 
melting snow. The parish priest had said to her 
that if the sun went on shining for three days all 
the snow would be melted. 

The parish priest turned up in the following 
dream: 



TYPICAL NERVOUS DISORDERS 34^1 

II. Germaine was in the country with a neighbour, 
at a washerwoman's. She left some collars and some 
underlinen to be washed. Then, still with her neigh- 
bour, she found herself at the parish priest's. He 
seemed to flirt with her; the other woman, who was 
older than Germaine, was jealous. But a young 
woman belonging to the priest's household warned 
him, saying: *'No, not the older one, I know what sort 
of woman she is." (In fact, Germaine 's neighbour 
is a light woman.) . . . Germaine does not like dream- 
ing about parish priests; **it is a sign of bad news." 

The analysis showed that the parish priest was 
a substitute for the father, and that Germaine had 
a strong fixation upon the father. **I was mucK 
fonder of father than of mother. I don't mean that 
I did not like mother, but she did not return my 
affection. I was not her favourite." Germaine 
was the youngest of the family, and she had the im- 
pression that her birth had not been entirely wel- 
come. Her mother certainly could not have wanted 
another child. 

The neighbour who was older than herself sym- 
bolised Germaine 's elder sister. **My sister and 
I could not get on together." The sister's conduct 
had laid her open to reproach, and in the dream 
Germaine exaggerates her sister's misdemeanours 
in order to abase her, and the better to justify her 
own claim to the exclusive affection of the father. 
The underlinen for the laundress has as association 
the *^ dirty snow" which was mentioned just now. 
The * 'underlinen" also calls up the memory of a 
dispute with her sister at the time of the father's 



342 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

death. Her sister had wanted to carry off all the 
father's underclothing. Quarrels with her sister 
had been frequent ; especially there had been wrang- 
ling about money matters connected with their late 
father's property — this controversy was still unset- 
tled. At another sitting, Germaine referred to her 
jealousy of her sister; but, ^* Really my sister was 
jealous of me, for I was father's favourite." Her 
sister had ** idled," whilst Germaine had worked 
hard in order to '* economise." (It had been like 
the grasshopper and the ant in the fable.) Work- 
ing hard in order to economise leads us to Germaine 's 
perpetual fussy activity. We discern one of those 
persistent grudges which assume a virtuous and 
honest form, but in which the virtue and the hon- 
esty have a sub-flavour of vengeance. She has a 
grudge against her sister. The dream stresses the 
point that if Germaine is more worthy than her 
neighbour (the sister) of the love of the parish 
priest (the father) it is because Germaine is a bet- 
ter woman. We begin to realise that the fussy 
activity is the expression of a wish to outshine the 
sister, and that underlying this wish there was a 
desire to be more worthy of the father's affection. 
The next dream reiterates the same attitude 
towards her sister and her father. 

III. The father's burial service. The coffin has 
been placed upon the altar. Germaine is looking on. 
Her sister was there too, and was carrjdng a paraffin 
lamp in the passage to light the people who were com- 
ing up the stairs and who were to help in the settle- 



TYPICAL NERVOUS DISORDERS 343 

ment of the property. There was a dispute between 
herself and her sister about this matter. 



Here, recalling my interpretation of the '^parish 
priest," Germaine made a remark whose logical 
force was questionable, though the idea came into 
her mind as an irresistible conviction. She said: 
**The parish priest of the other dream may cer- 
tainly have been my father, for in this dream I saw 
my father's coffin on the altar." She believed that 
her father had ^^died a good death." We gather 
that the father is looked upon by Germaine as hav- 
ing been a person of great moral worth, and here is 
an additional reason why a decent and hard-working 
life should help to make her worthy of him. This 
is the path of sublimation for her long-standing 
jealousy of her sister. But the sublimation is in- 
complete; the subject's attitude is intermediate be- 
tween one of pure sublimation and one of neurosis, 
for her desire to lead a decent and hard-working 
life finds expression, not only in actions that are 
morally estimable, but also in nervous fussiness and 
aimless activities which Germaine herself regards 
as ridiculous. 

No doubt an additional factor must be invoked 
for the full understanding of the fussy activity. 
When Germaine dreams about her sister, the point 
especially stressed is that the sister was ** older" 
than herself. This detail would seem to have a 
peculiarly intimate relationship with the jealousy. 
in Germaine 's fussiness, in her persistent feeling 
that she needs to ** hurry up," we may discern a 



344 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

wish to overtake her sister, and to bring herself 
nearer than her sister to the father's level. This 
interpretation does not conflict with the previously 
mentioned wish to surpass her sister morally; it is 
superadded. It is furthermore in harmony with the 
fantasy that appears in a subsequent dream, when 
the father has been rejuvenated. This is another 
way of bringing herself into closer approximation 
with the father. 

To complete my description of the case, I must 
point out that Germaine has a strong desire, which 
has never been fulfilled, ^^to be a mother.'' Apro- 
pos of a dream in which she had held a child in her 
arms, she said: **I never knew the joy of having a 
mother who caressed me, or the joy of being a 
mother." For her, these two phenomena were 
linked. Asked for associations to the image of the 
child in her arms, she said : * * Something one wants 
to take care of. I don't like people to do me an 
injustice. Quarrels with my sister." All this 
shows that her longing to be a mother has been re- 
inforced from the outset by her longing to grow up, 
to take the place of her elder sister and of her 
mother. The wish to be a mother was superadded 
to the other wish as a factor of the dissatisfaction 
which found expression in the perpetual dread of 
being behind time. 

Germaine soon got the better of the inclination 
to fussy activity and of the associated **neuasthenic 
ideas." As far as these troubles in the moral 
sphere were concerned, she was amazed at the re- 



TYPICAL NERVOUS DISORDERS 345 

suits achieved. But concerning the spasm, more 
precise information was needed. 

She recalled that when she was six years old she 
had been butted off a rock by a goat, and that one 
of the animal 's horns had struck her below the right 
eye. This reminded her of another accident, when 
a falling stone had injured her right leg. The same 
leg had been hurt by the goat. When she was men- 
struating, varicose veins swelled up in this leg, and 
simultaneously the facial spasm grew worse. The 
trouble was also aggravated whenever there was a 
snowstorm. The effect of snow, which was mainly, 
if not entirely, psychic, had been elucidated by the 
analysis, by the associations to dream I (^^melting 
snow")« But the whole thing was still rather 
vague. An interesting reminiscence now threw 
light upon the matter. 

IV. When Germaine was eighteen or nineteen years 
old, a girl friend had told her that she was being 
courted by a young man who had a spasm of the 
eyelid. Germaine had told her friend that she had 
better look out, because people who lived together were 
apt to catch that sort of thing from one another. 
Germaine had known a manufacturer with a spasm 
of this sort who had given it to his wife. 

Germaine added that this manufacturer lived near 
a country house where she w<as housekeeper. She 
did not see him often, for her mistress was very 
strict and would seldom let her go out because of 
the manufacturer's workmen, who liked to flirt with 
the young housekeeper. She was nine years at this 



348 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

I cleared the room, everyone went away, and G^er- 
maine was left alone with me. Next I was painting; 
I painted two heads larger than life; a man*s head 
and a woman's. The woman was of a certain age. 
Both the heads were upside down. The man's head 
was not so detailed ; he was fairly young. I had writ- 
ten something beneath the picture, but someone rubbed 
it out as she tried to read it. 

The associations to ** upside down" were ** some- 
thing which won't work properly," ** present state 
of health." All the first part of the dream down 
to the moment when *^I cleared the room" is a 
dream reminiscence of the courses of autosugges- 
tion in which the subject has participated. (One 
of her fellow patients had had a very sore finger.) 
The time when **Germaine was left alone with me" 
is the psychoanalytical sitting. The faces that I 
painted were those of Germaine's father and 
mother; in connection with the first sittings I had 
drawn attention to their respective roles. When 
asked for an association to ^*the woman of a cer- 
tain age," Germaine said simply '^my mother." As 
regards **the man," the association was: *^I said 
to myself that he was too young to be my father." 
It is the father rejuvenated, in virtue of the wish 
which has been explained. The hand which erases 
the writing, symbolises the difficulty of the analysis. 

The other dream belongs to the final stages of the 
analysis. 

VI. She was with a woman older than herself. 
There had been a death. The room seemed very dirty. 



TYPICAL NERVOUS DISORDERS 349 

She said: *'It's impossible to clean this; it must be 
thoroughly done up.'' 

The '* woman older than herself" is the sister once 
more. The ^* death" immediately calls up that of 
the father, and reminds the subject of the dream of 
the coffin upon the altar (III). The very dirty 
room is akin to the dirty water of dream I, and to 
the dirty underlinen of dream II, and also to the 
faces which are upside down seen in dream V. All 
these things symbolise the disorder of the subcon- 
scious, in association with the paternal complex. 
The disorder is too much for her; she is not com- 
petent to assimilate the analysis sufficiently to en- 
able her to set things straight. The last phrase 
symbolises the subject's intimate reaction to the 
respective methods. To * ^ clean ' ' is psychoanalysis ; 
to *^do up thoroughly" is suggestion. 



CHAPTER TEN 

MENTAL DISOEDERS 

Mental disorders, like nervous disorders, are sym- 
bolical. The language of delirium is no more in- 
scrutable than the language of dreams. Moreover, 
not merely are these disorders symbolical, but they 
are the symbols of the psychological frame of mind 
from which the disorders spring. In the case of 
mental disorder, therefore, just as in such cases as 
we have hitherto been considering, psychoanalysis 
is curative simultaneously with being interpretative. 
But if the analysis is to do any good, it is essential 
that the subject's consciousness should not be en- 
tirely clouded. The future alone can tell us to what 
extent psychoanalysis can influence mental disorders 
for good. That it does influence them in certain 
cases has been definitely proved.^ 

In the three cases expounded in this chapter, the 
troubles are sharply localised, either because they 
are specifically restricted to isolated systems of 
ideas (ideas of persecution in Bertha, and ideas of 
physical contamination in Ruth), or because they 
are associated with certain transitory states (epi- 
leptic states in George). 

In Bertha, and still more in Ruth, infantile ele- 

1 Bernard Hart^s little volume, The Psychology of Insanity, 
numerous editions from 1912 onwards, may usefully be consulted 
as to the bearing of psychoanalysis upon mental disorders. 

360 



MENTAL DISORDERS 351 

ments have a preponderant importance. Underly- 
ing the trouble in both these subjects was an ardent 
wish to escape from the family environment. In 
Bertha, this wish was complicated by a longing for 
a more expansive and more intellectual life ; to some 
extent the second wish may be regarded as a would- 
be justification, as a rationalisation, of the first. In- 
deed, delusions of persecution have been specially 
studied as functions of hostility to the family en- 
vironment.^ Bertha's persecution complex also 
contained sexual elements. In Ruth, the influence 
of sexual factors was even more conspicuous; but 
in this subject, too, the sexual factors were closely 
associated with a protest against the environment, 
and especially against the father (a step-father) 
and against the improprieties he was guilty of 
towards the child. A feeling of rape, of contamina- 
tion, associated with the image of the father, under- 
lay the fixed idea of the subject, who imagined that 
she emitted an evil smell. 

In George we have to do with mental disorder 
of a very definite type, for he is an epileptic liable 
to attacks of epileptic insanity. The insanity, there- 
fore, is dependent upon a specific morbid state, and 
it cannot be attributed to a psychological cause. 
Nevertheless, psychoanalysis has shown that in epi- 
leptic insanity the patients exhibit well-defined 
complexes. There can be no doubt that these com- 
plexes play their part in the production of the in- 
sanity, even though the primary cause of the latter 

^ Lang, Eine Hypothese zur psychologischen Bedentungder Ver 
folgungsidee, 1914, 



352 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

is the patient's physical condition. By analysing 
the complexes we may perhaps hope that we shall 
modify the insanity. No one will deny that night- 
mare is caused by the physical condition of the 
sleeper; nevertheless, psychoanalysis can relieve a 
tendency to nightmare, for the disorder is also 
brought about by the subject's complexes. The 
value of psychoanalysis in helping the epileptic to 
*^ sublimate "some of his troubles, and even its value 
in modifying to some extent the frequency or sever- 
ity of the attacks, is categorically asserted by L. 
Pierce Clark, who has reported some interesting 
analyses of cases of epileptic insanity.^ 

1, Bertha 

Introveksion. Delusions of Persecution. 
Neuralgia. 

Bertha is twenty-seven years old. Since childhood 
her character has been reserved, stubborn, and 
thrifty to excess. She belongs to the lower middle 
class, and is fairly well educated, being rather better 
off in this respect than the average of her surround- 
ings. 

Bertha is quite unenlightened in sexual matters, 
displaying in this respect a certain childishness 
which is surprising to her mother and her sister. 
She is very definitely an introvert. 

Her father was an alcoholic ; one of her maternal 
aunts suffered from hysteria. When she was three 

^ Clark, A Clinical Study of some Mental Contents in Epileptic 
Attacks, 1920, pp. 367, 375. 



MENTAL DISORDERS 353 

years old, Bertlia was sent to board with this aunt. 
Then, when the mother wanted the child home again, 
the aunt refused to give her up, became abusive, 
and struck the mother. The police had to be 
called in. 

When Bertha was ^ve, she was boarded out with 
strangers. The aunt kidnapped her, and told all 
and sundry that the mother had abandoned her little 
girl. When Bertha was nine, the aunt asked to 
have the child to stay for a week, kept her beyond 
the specified time, and finally sent her to board 
somewhere else in order to hide her. When she was 
six. Bertha saw her aunt in a hysterical attack. 
When she was fourteen, she ran away from a school 
where she was being ill-treated. 

In 1914 Bertha was abroad, in one of the belliger- 
ent countries. She was a governess, witnessed a 
number of tragical scenes, and had to take flight 
before the invaders. 

During 1915 she was placed in an asylum. Her 
family was notified. She was suffering from mental 
disorder in the form of systematised delusions of 
persecution. She complained of severe pains in the 
head and the stomach, often refused her food, and 
was obdurately silent. She refused to leave her 
cell, and bit the nurses who tried to make her do so. 
The Red Cross Society secured her repatriation, 
when her family and I myself had drawn attention 
to the case ; she had to be brought in a special com- 
partment, under close care. 

She returned home in the beginning of 1916, and 



354. STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

there was marked improvement from the very out- 
set, so that I am by no means entitled to claim all 
the merit. I visited Bertha daily, and by the end 
of the first week I was able to carry on a connected 
conversation with her ; this enabled me to make sug- 
gestions, and before long to teach her autosugges- 
tion. She was perfectly calm, but in other respects 
the symptoms of her mental disorder were persist- 
ent. She declared she had been afraid of becoming 
a victim of the white-slave traffic, and from time to 
time she still suspected her mother of having bad 
designs upon her. I continued to see her daily. 
After four months, the pains in the head and the 
stomach had entirely ceased, and her conversation 
was no longer maniacal. No physical treatment had 
been employed. 

The symptoms which still persisted would not have 
aroused the attention of anyone ignorant of her 
antecedents, but to me they were significant. 

Bertha had a dislike, one might almost say a re- 
pugnance, for the housework which her mother, by 
degrees, allotted to her. This work caused fatigue 
that seemed out of proportion to the effort. She 
did her work with marked distaste, dragging her feet 
like a child which obeys with reluctance. Her ill- 
humour at this time was perpetual, and her temper 
was liable to flash out at any moment against per- 
sons or things. 

Now, a young man who had been engaged to her 
called at the house. She received him coldly, almost 
rudely, surrounding herself with a rampart of 
silence. Without any open explanations, she showed 



MENTAL DISORDERS 355 

clearly that the idea of this marriage did not please 
her. Nevertheless she refused to suggest that the 
engagement should be broken off. She seemed to 
be suffering from a conflict, and to be affected with 
a confused malaise.. It was the young man who 
broke off the engagement. 

At this juncture, psychoanalysis was methodically 
undertaken. The reason for the new departure was 
that the later symptoms (ill-humour, etc.) which 
had been aggravated after her fiance 's visit, seemed 
to be associated with the idea of this marriage, and 
suggested a clue. Moreover, for the last two months 
a new bodily symptom had made its appearance, a 
neuralgia of the left arm. This neuralgia had be- 
come so violent as to interfere greatly with sleep, 
and to make the use of the arm practically impos- 
sible. If, at meals, Bertha attempted to pour her- 
self out some water, she often found herself unable 
to do so. As a sequel of autosuggestion under my 
supervision, the neuralgia got much better, and was 
transferred from the left arm to the right; but the 
patient continued to suffer from it every day. 

Here is a dream which analysis enabled me to in- 
terpret. 

I. Bertha was in a large crowd, entirely consisting 
of persons of distinction. She caught sight of a young 
man who was very tall and fair ; he spoke with a vulgar 
accent, which shocked her. At this moment I was 
near her, and I scolded her because she showed too 
much s3Tnpathy for the young man. She was aston- 
ished at my reproaches, and she remonstrated, saying 



354 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

there was marked improvement from the very out- 
set, so that I am by no means entitled to claim all 
the merit. I visited Bertha daily, and by the end 
of the first week I was able to carry on a connected 
conversation with her ; this enabled me to make sug- 
gestions, and before long to teach her autosugges- 
tion. She was perfectly calm, but in other respects 
the symptoms of her mental disorder were persist- 
ent. She declared she had been afraid of becoming 
a victim of the white-slave traffic, and from time to 
time she still suspected her mother of having bad 
designs upon her. I continued to see her daily. 
After four months, the pains in the head and the 
stomach had entirely ceased, and her conversation 
was no longer maniacal. No physical treatment had 
been employed. 

The symptoms which still persisted would not have 
aroused the attention of anyone ignorant of her 
antecedents, but to me they were significant. 

Bertha had a dislike, one might almost say a re- 
pugnance, for the housework which her mother, by 
degrees, allotted to her. This work caused fatigue 
that seemed out of proportion to the effort. She 
did her work with marked distaste, dragging her feet 
like a child which obeys with reluctance. Her ill- 
humour at this time was perpetual, and her temper 
was liable to flash out at any moment against per- 
sons or things. 

Now, a young man who had been engaged to her 
called at the house. She received him coldly, almost 
rudely, surrounding herself with a rampart of 
silence. Without any open explanations, she showed 



MENTAL DISORDERS 355 

clearly that the idea of this marriage did not please 
her. Nevertheless she refused to suggest that the 
engagement should be broken off. She seemed to 
be suffering from a conflict, and to be affected with 
a confused malaise.. It was the young man who 
broke off the engagement. 

At this juncture, psychoanalysis was methodically 
undertaken. The reason for the new departure was 
that the later symptoms (ill-humour, etc.) which 
had been aggravated after her fiance 's visit, seemed 
to be associated with the idea of this marriage, and 
suggested a clue. Moreover, for the last two months 
a new bodily symptom had made its appearance, a 
neuralgia of the left arm. This neuralgia had be- 
come so violent as to interfere greatly with sleep, 
and to make the use of the arm practically impos- 
sible. If, at meals, Bertha attempted to pour her- 
self out some water, she often found herself unable 
to do so. As a sequel of autosuggestion under my 
supervision, the neuralgia got much better, and was 
transferred from the left arm to the right; but the 
patient continued to suffer from it every day. 

Here is a dream which analysis enabled me to in- 
terpret. 

I. Bertha was in a large crowd, entirely consisting 
of persons of distinction. She caught sight of a young 
man who was very tall and fair ; he spoke with a vulgar 
accent, which shocked her. At this moment I was 
near her, and I scolded her because she showed too 
much s3Tnpathy for the young man. She was aston- 
ished at my reproaches, and she remonstrated, saying 



356 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

that the young man (who turned out to be a friend 
of mine) was disagreeable to her on account of his 
vulgar accent. 



I asked Bertha for associations to the items of 
this dream, and these associations speedily threw 
light on the matter. 

The ** distinguished persons" called up other 
dreams. She often dreams of distinguished, well- 
dressed, and cultured persons. She envies them. 
Sometimes she finds that she is herself one of them ; 
she lives with them and talks to them; this is de- 
lightful. In these other dreams I have not appeared, 
but in them also she has been accompanied by a 
** well-informed and cultured'' guide, for example, 
the medical superintendent of the asylum. In the 
other dreams, he played much the same part that I 
played in the dream just recorded. I had soon recog- 
nised in Bertha the half-explicit wish for a more 
expansive and more ** cultured'' life, of which her 
years as governess had given her a glimpse. 

In the *' young man who was very tall and fair," 
it was easy to recognise her fiance in disguise, for 
her fiance was short and darh, and had a well-marked 
rustic accent. Repression had made skilful play 
with the mechanism of contrasts. The cause of the 
antipathy she felt towards the young man in the 
dream was his ^^ vulgar accent," which smacked of 
a vulgar origin, and conflicted with Bertha 's aspira- 
tion towards a *' cultured life." 

I realised that this aspiration was deeply rooted, 
and that it must have been one of the hidden causes 



MENTAL DISORDERS 857 

of lier malady. More especially it tlirew light upon 
her lack of enthusiasm for housework and upon her 
persistent ill-humour. 

As soon as I explained all this to Bertha, she felt 
that I was right. Great relief to the symptoms en- 
sued. A few months later, her engagement was 
renewed, the antipathy having been overcome thanks 
to the analysis. 

There was, however, something more at work than 
a superficial antipathy. There was also a repug- 
nance towards sexuality; the subject's whole being 
bore witness to this, and her obsession with the 
** white-slave traffic" was merely a salient expres- 
sion of her general repugnance. 

I should mention that the engagement, after 
dragging on for a time, was again broken off, further 
difficulties having arisen. It would be hard to say 
how far the old conflict played a part in reinforcing 
the reasons for the new rupture. Two or three 
years later, Bertha married someone else. 

The subject's obsession with the ** white-slave 
traffic'' suggested that we should find a connection 
between her ideas of persecution and her antago- 
nism to sexuality. Here are two typical dreams 
showing the existence of this connection. 

The first of these dreams was one she had while 
in the asylum. At least, so Bertha says. 

II. She was among some soldiers. Several of them 
wore red uniforms, and they had extraordinarily long 
daggers, still sheathed, but their hands were ready to 



ass STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

unsheath them at any moment. There was blood, much 
blood, a lake of blood. 

Then there was an avenue, a long avenue. Here 
there were a lot of soldiers, and, turning round. Bertha 
saw that there were also some civilians, who ran after 
her in a crowd. They were all men. 

The second dream is a nightmare she has fre- 
quently had since adolescence. 

III. She saw a man lying at the foot of her bed, in 
the shadow, and at the mere sight of him she felt 
terribly frightened. When she was about nineteen, a 
modification ensued in the nightmare, and since then 
the man has always held a dagger in his hand. 

When Bertha was asked for associations, ** sol- 
dier" called up ** weapon," *'red" called up 
^* blood," and **lake" called up *^ blood." The 
weapon, with the threat which it implies, is the 
centre of gravity of this vision. When she was 
asked for the associations to the word ** dagger," 
there was no answer. The subject was manifestly 
embarrassed. However, the conclusion we have just 
drawn shows that the dagger was the most signiifi- 
cant item. Bertha's embarrassment, then, points to 
an object of repression, and one need not be a Solo- 
mon to recognise a sexual symbol. Furthermore, 
** avenue" calls up **a lot of trees" — ** bushy trees." 
Here we have a kindred symbol. If any doubt re- 
mains, let us recall that the crowd was *^all men." 
Now it is this crowd of men which runs after her. 

The ** soldiers" were the outcome of visions of the 



MENTAL DISORDERS 359 

war. The dread she had experienced owing to the 
invasion by armed men had, by a most natural asso- 
ciation, awakened sexual terror. As for the "man 
lying'' at the foot of the bed, he was a reminiscence 
of something that had really happened. Once a 
drunken man, mistaking the landing, had come into 
Bertha's bedroom and collapsed on the foot of the 
girl's bed, in the position of the man in the night- 
mare. She passed a whole night of terror, afraid 
to utter a sound, her eyes fixed on the invader. It 
is easy to infer that henceforward the image of this 
drunkard would fuse in the subconscious with the 
images of the step-father, who was a drinker. The 
repugnance for a rough environment would coalesce 
with repugnance for sexuality. There would thus 
arise the condensation which finds expression in 
Bertha's intense repugnance towards vulgarity. We 
now discern the unity underlying the most diverse 
symptoms, ranging from delusions of persecution to 
a dislike for housework, and not forgetting the sub- 
ject's antipathy to her fiance with the rustic accent. 
We have, further, good reason to think that Bertha 
must have been gravely predisposed to delusions 
of persecution by the behaviour of her hysterical 
aunt, and that this aunt's remarks concerning the 
mother must have influenced the little girl's imagi- 
nation. This is why, when the crisis came. Bertha's 
suspicions tended to be concentrated on the mother. 
Separation from her mother when Bertha was living 
abroad reminded the subject of the days of child- 
hood when she had visited her aunt ; and the analogy 
was completed by a remarkable detail, for Bertha 



360 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

had stayed with her aunt for the last week before 
going abroad. We know that analogy of situations 
can predispose to analogy in mental states. 

The neuralgia of the left arm, occasionally trans- 
ferred to the right arm, persisted as a daily trouble 
when the other symptoms had apparently yielded 
to treatment. 

After a fruitless attempt to follow up various 
clues, it occurred to me to ask Bertha if she had 
ever known anyone who suffered from a severe 
affection of the arm. In answer, came the following 
reminiscence. 

IV. When she was nine years old, her most intimate 
friend had been a schoolfellow who had a paralysed 
left arm. She was Bertha's namesake, and the two 
Berthas were inseparable. One day her friend had 
a fall, and injured the paralysed arm. She was laid 
up for a long time. During this illness, the mistresp 
of their class used to visit the invalid and bring h 
books. The sick Bertha had taken advantage of the 
period of enforced leisure to read, and acquire knowl- 
edge. During this period, the invalid's sister had 
done all the housework, working double tides, for the 
family was not well off. 

I knew enough. The accident to the arm in this 
schoolfellow had secured for the latter leisure, and 
opportunities for culture, and I knew that these were 
my own patient's chief desire (see dream I). Fur- 
thermore, the close association between the two 
girls, the facts that they were of the same age and 



MENTAL DISORDERS 361 

bore the same name, had favoured perpetual com- 
parisons, and had led to a sort of imaginative iden- 
tification between the two companions. What was 
true of one was true of the other. Everything hap- 
pened as if my patient Bertha's subconscious had 
reasoned as follows : 

Through an affection of the left arm, my double 
has secured leisure and culture. A similar affection 
of my own arm will bring me the same good fortune.^ 

(I may add that my Bertha, like her friend, has 
a sister, and that the latter, in fits of annoyance, has 
frequently grumbled at Bertha for not doing her 
fair share of the housework.) 

By further questioning I secured confirmation of 
my theory. I asked Bertha whether she had never 
suffered from any ailment of the arm between the 
age of nine and the recent onset of the neuralgia. 
Oh, yes, since she was nine she had always had a 
pain in the arm when she was carrying a muff. I 
asked her to show me the position in which her 
friend had held the paralysed arm, and then to show 
me the position of her own arm in the muif. The 
positions were identical, with the same drop at the 
wrist. 

I promptly explained to Bertha the origin of her 
neuralgia. This trouble, the last redoubt in which 
the protean illness had concentrated its forces, dis- 
appeared that very day, 

1 This ease of neuralgia resembles the ease of contracture psy- 
choanalysed by Dr. Charles Odier (op. eit.). 



362 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

2, Ruth 
A Fixed Idea. Impressions of Rape. 

I record here a few significant details from the 
analysis of an extremely complicated case. 

Ruth is twenty-four years of age. She has a fixed 
idea about which she will allow no argument; she 
imagines that she emits an evil smell, that everyone 
notices it, and that no one dares tell her. This no- 
tion paralyses all her social life. 

Ruth's childhood was most unhappy.^ Her mother 
was arrested for ill-using her. Ruth can recall the 
incidents. 

I. She was sleeping in a garret. The snow was fall- 
ing on her bed. Her mother used to make her get up 
first. That morning, Ruth pretended to be asleep. 
Her mother plunged Ruth 's head into a basin of water, 
then she tied the child to the leg of a wash-stand, and 
went to fetch the milk. Someone knocked at the door ; 
it was one of her aunts. Ruth explained what had 
happened, and the aunt fetched the police. 

Ruth added that she was passionately fond of 
her mother in spite of everything, and the child 
suffered at being separated from her mother. She 
remembers that when she was a child she was afraid 
of being alone, especially in the evening. When she 

^ The main details of her life as a child have been independently 
confirmed; they were not imaginatively constnicted by the subject. 



MENTAL DISORDERS 363 

awoke in the morning, slie used to say to her mother : 
**Have I got to go out into the wide, wide world V^ 
She recalled a dream she had had when about five 
years old. 

II. She was at sea, in a boat filled with water where 
there was no room for her feet. She saw a whale's 
head with a huge eye. She had the feeling that this 
was a monster which would swallow her. A feeling 
of intense loneliness. Then she saw that the shore 
was lined with a row of tubs filled with water. 

The sea-monster is the mother, whose way it was 
when in a temper to plunge the child ^s head into a 
tub or a basin. This had given Ruth a phobia of 
water. When she was in her bath, the reflecting sur- 
face of the water frightened her, and she had to 
ruffle it. Nevertheless, the child was devoted to the 
** monster," and her attachment prevented her from 
going *^into the wide, wide world." 

The reason for Ruth's attachment to her mother 
was that her father, or I should say her step-father, 
was even worse than the mother, if possible. He 
would come home drunk. His conduct towards the 
child was indecent both in word and deed. Here is a 
reminiscence. 

III. It was one evening when Ruth came home late 
with her step-father. He had taken her into a public 
house ; she had been afraid of a man with no legs, and 
she had been beaten. When she got home, her father, 
who was drunk, wanted to make her drink some 
absinthe. When she refused, her mother plunged her 



364 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

head into a pail of water. She felt she was being 
suffocated. 

The absinthe is symbolic of all the improprieties 
of the drunken step-father, who at a later date was 
to make a definite attempt to rape the child. It 
was apparently as an outcome of this scene that 
Euth acquired a phobia of buttons and of dress- 
hooks. It made her *^feel dirty'' to look at them. 
She always had to wash her hands after hooking up 
her dress. 

To this scene there were superadded other scenes 
of assaults upon her person, sometimes by the step- 
father and sometimes by others. It is likely enough 
that there has been exaggeration about some of these 
details, but the important point is, not so much their 
degree of objective reality, as the impression they 
made on the subject. Here is one of them. 

lY. She had been sent to the village for some bread. 
A gentleman she did not know took her by the hand 
and led her into a little wood. He rummaged in her 
pocket. Instinctively she was seized with fear, and 
managed to run away. 

In their totality, these memories have left a strong 
impression of violation, a feeling of contamination, 
which disclosed itself as the origin of the fixed idea 
of ^'emitting an evil smell." The *^ little wood" 
in reminiscence IV led us to another reminiscence. 

V. She wanted to run away from her aunt's, no 
doubt in order to go back to her mother (her aunt 
had taken charge of her after the scene when the 



MENTAL DISORDERS 365 

police were called in). But she turned back because 
she had to pass near the lunatic asylum and the little 
wood. She was afraid both of the asylum and of the 
wood. She fancied there must be a monster in the 
little wood ; she heard it cough one day. 

We know already the meaning of the little wood. 
Thus in Ruth, the wish to return to the mother, 
the fear of rape, and the fear of madness, seem to 
be closely linked, and this association will help us 
to understand many of the symptoms. In any case, 
the mental disorder is directly connected with the 
idea of rape or contamination. 

Furthermore, we have seen that the refusal of 
the step-father's ^' glass of absinthe'' (a symbol of 
rape) led to the action of the mother, who plunged 
the child's head into the pail where she felt she was 
being suffocated. The dread of the father, the dread 
of rape, and the dread of the ^*wide world," are all 
one; it is this dread which impels the subject back 
towards the mother — and towards the loneliness 
where one is stifled. The impression of ** emitting 
an evil smell" is, from one point of view, a ration- 
alisation to justify the repudiation of the social in- 
stincts, to justify a flight from the world. It is also 
probable that, in the subject's imagination, the idea 
of the head in the water has become a symbol of 
purification. Thus the mother's violence does not 
merely represent to Ruth the choice of a lesser evil, 
it represents a positive good. 

Ruth will not feel that she has been enfranchised 
unless she secures the conviction that she is not an 



366 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

object of disgust. That whicli lier subconscious 
chiefly demands of me is that I should prove that I 
myself have no disgust; this proof and health are 
one and the same thing. She expresses the idea in 
a beautiful dream. 

VI. On the shore. Jesus, very large, appears in 
a large boat. The scene changes to an arcade. Kuth 
sits down on a step, and Jesus sits down on the next 
step below. A deformed creature was there; it came 
towards Jesus. So repulsive was its aspect that she 
wondered whether Jesus would be able to touch it. 
Not only did he touch it, but he actually embraced it, 
and she wept on seeing disgust overcome. Then a 
little tableau appeared; she saw a young man seated 
on an ass ; it was the deformed creature of a moment 
ago, cured. 

In association, the ** deformed creature" reminds 
her of the legless man the memory of whom is asso- 
ciated with the scene of the *' glass of absinthe" 
(III) — a condensation of all the scenes of rape. 
This deformed creature is Euth herself, under the 
repugnant aspect which she believes herself to have. 
No doubt the conviction that she is repugnant arose 
out of scenes of such a character. Jesus is the guide 
and the healer. He sits upon the lower step to show 
that he does not despise her. The young man seated 
on the ass is Jesus himself on Palm Sunday. Herein 
is disclosed a wish for identification with the guide ; 
with myself, that is to say. Here we have *^ trans- 
ference on to the analyst" in an extreme form. Of 
course the guide, in this case, greatly transcends my 



MENTAL DISORDERS 867 

own personality. Euth is sublimating the idea of 
the guide into a religious aspiration (we shall note 
a similar phenomenon in the subject Stella), and 
the transference wishes to sublimate itself into a 
sort of mystical union. 

3, George 
Mental Abekrations in an Epileptic. 

Epilepsy began in George at the age of fifteen, tak- 
ing the form of sudden and brief lapses of conscious- 
ness, and of a few convulsive seizures. He is now 
twenty-two. He has been treated in various ways, 
with bromides, with a proprietary preparation 
known as sedobrol, and by homeopathy. Speaking 
generally, there has been an increase in the fre- 
quency of the attacks. He now has several attacks 
of minor epilepsy every week as well as convulsive 
seizures almost daily. The diagnosis of genuine 
epilepsy has been made several times. 

Since the age of nineteen, probably owing to the 
use of bromides, his memory has grown defective, and 
his intellectual processes are less rapid. This slug- 
gishness of intellection has been especially marked 
since the treatment with sedobrol. George does not 
always grasp what is said to him; he finds it diffi- 
cult to understand a jest; he does not notice a pun 
unless it is explained to him. 

The first attack of mental aberration occurred 
when he was twenty-one years old. It lasted ten 
days, and took the form of religious mania. 



368 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

I. George is convinced that his illness is a punish- 
ment sent by God for his sins. He remains calm and 
gentle. 

Three months later he had a fresh attack of men- 
tal disorder, violent mania this time. He had to be 
put under restraint for ten days. 

Two months later came a third access of mental 
alienation. 

II. George is convinced that he has just undergone 
a transformation, that he has passed from youth to 
manhood. He asks his father when the latter under- 
went a similar change, and whether all young men 
suffer from it. He says that it is frightful. He is 
irritable and easily grows angry with his mother. 

Another attack occurred about six weeks later. 

III. Once more there was religious mania compli- 
cated by sexual disquietudes. George thought that in 
the first days of the life of mankind, man and woman 
constituted a single being. They wanted to separate, 
and disobeyed God, who punished them. Woman is a 
perpetual temptation for man; man is rendered un- 
happy by his vices, and especially because he is always 
wanting to satisfy his desire for women.^ — George read 
the book of Genesis, and underlined all the passages 
containing sexual allusions. 

This attack of alienation lasted twelve days. At 
the end, George told his mother all he had done and 

^ George declared in his normal condition that he had had strong 
sexual desire, but had always resisted it. 



MENTAL DISORDERS 369 

felt, adding: *^IVe been balmy/' The attacks of 
mental disorder became more frequent^ and another 
access of mania began a month later. Just before 
this period of disorder George had heard a lecture 
upon the need that young men should be scrupu- 
lously pure in body and mind, and he had been 
greatly impressed by it. For a week, nothing hap- 
pened, and then the new aberration appeared in a 
violent form. 

IV. George heard voices ordering him to sacrifice 
himself to save the wicked and perverse human race 
and to put an end to the war. He was the repre- 
sentative of Christ in the twentieth century; for a 
moment he was even Christ himself. To obey the 
voices he must, in a public place, make a declaration 
which would be revealed to him. In fact, one Sunday 
afternoon, when he and his father were out walking 
on one of the quays in the centre of the town, George 
climbed on the parapet and began: **My breth- 
ren," . . . 

His father was able to lead him away, for George 
made no resistance except in words. After supper 
he went for another walk with his father and dis- 
cussed the matter. He spoke of having opposed the 
voice; he knew that his parents would be annoyed 
by his action, and that everyone would regard him 
as a lunatic. He seemed to speak quite rationally 
and added that if something remarkable should hap- 
pen in the world, this would be a sign that he had 
been right ; if nothing should happen, it would show 
that he had been out of his mind. 



370 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

During the same period, he frequently said that he 
must resist temptation, must reform his conduct 
[which did not need reform], must take Jesus as his 
model. 



It was during this attack of mental disorder that 
I first saw George. 

It would be beyond the scope of the present work 
to study such a case as this in its entirety. Besides, 
I was not able to follow up the case for more than 
two months. From the general point of view, I 
shall merely note that during these two months, 
when psychoanalysis and suggestion were being 
practised, there was no attack of mental disorder. 
Furthermore, and this is very interesting, the inter- 
vals between the attacks of minor epilepsy became 
considerably greater (eleven days), and the con- 
vulsive seizures were much less frequent, for they 
no longer occurred every day. I do not know how 
far these results were durable, for I was unable to 
keep the patient under observation. 

But George's epilepsy is not the topic of this 
study. My purpose merely is to show what psycho- 
analysis can teach us concerning mental aberrations. 
As regards the relationship between these aberra- 
tions and epilepsy, the attitude of Dr. Mercier is 
extremely judicious. He writes: *^ Closely as epi- 
lepsy and insanity are often associated, it is no 
more justifiable to regard the epilepsy as the cause 
of the insanity, than to regard the insanity as the 
cause of the epilepsy in those numerous cases in 



MENTAL DISORDERS 371 

which epileptic convulsions occur in the final stages 
of insanity. All that we are justified in saying is 
that insanity and epilepsy are very closely associ- 
ated."^ This much is certain, that although the 
epileptic condition obviously determines the mental 
troubles, the content of these is the outcome of psy- 
chological causation, is dependent upon complexes. 
This is proved by the possibility of a psychoanalysis 
in such cases. 

At the first glance we can detect a certain uni- 
formity in the various attacks of mental disorder. 
The patient's father, commenting upon them, ar- 
rived at a sound conclusion. He said : 

To sum up, it is plain that in each attack he has 
had fixed ideas of a religious category and of a sexual 
category, and that the former have been the sequel 
of the latter much as retribution follows sin. 

What was the **sin'' in this case! The analysis 
of a first dream at once conducted us by associations 
to ^* playmates'' and to a *' summer-house in a gar- 
den behind the house." This summer-house is the 
place where the bicycles are kept. It was here that 
some of his playmates initiated George into mas- 
turbation, which he subsequently practised. Here 
is the ^'sin" which he cannot forget, which weighs 
so heavily on his conscience, and which he believes 
to be the unmentionable cause of his illness. Apro- 
pos of the summer-house, he added: 

1 Mercier, A Textbook of Insanity, 1914, pp. 271-2. 



372 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

V. With his playmates he dug quarries near the 
summer-house ; there they buried things and dug them 
up later. 

This brings us to the ordinary fantasies of intro- 
version: an object which has been buried, ** re- 
pressed," and which has to be dug up again. The 
image of the summer-house is the link between the 
introversion and the autoerotic act. 

Some of the associations to the same dream sug- 
gest a condensation of George's bicycle with the 
membrum virile. 

The existence of this condensation is confirmed in 
the following: 

VI. I am on a huge rock ; I cmi Jiolddng my bicycle 
m my hand; Father is beside me ; we want to take the 
road which is in front of us. Father says: *'We must 
go round and get do\\Ti by the slope." — I want to 
jump down, first I throw down my bicycle, and when 
I do so I see it break up into fragments. 

This dream gives expression to George's fiixed 
idea of '^sin/' the sin we know; and of the catastro- 
phe which the subject believes to have been its con- 
sequence. 

The association to *^rock" is the stones *4n the 
garden behind the house." To the word ''jump" 
came the same association. We already know what 
there is in the garden behind the house, namely the 
summer-house. ''The road which is in front of us" 
symbolises masturbation. The error here is dis- 
obedience to the father. But it is more than dis- 



MENTAL DISORDERS 373 

obedience; it is ** repudiation of the father," or 
repudiation of virility, such as we ordinarily en- 
counter in introverts. 

The refusal of virility is clearly expressed in II 
and III. In III, we have a fantasy of the return to 
the infantile state which preceded *'sin,'^ the state 
in which ^^man and woman constituted a single be- 
ing.'' Sin is contemporaneous with the appearance 
of sexuality. In II, the transition to the state of 
manhood is regarded as something **f rightful.'' 
Nevertheless, the absence of virility is a lack, and 
the subject wishes to fulfil himself. This desire finds 
expression in the following dream. 

VII. I am on the Promenade Saint Antoine where 
there are a great many trees. There are many boys 
there, coming out of school. I see my grandfather, 
who is wearing a tall hat. I want to pass him un- 
noticed, but he has seen me and calls me. We walk 
on together, and we find on the ground a picture show- 
ing the heads of the seven federal councillors, and a 
picture of the leaders of the Swiss army. 

Questioning George, I learned that the grand- 
father had died after the onset of the epilepsy. He 
was no longer *^quite all there" (like George). In 
the dream he makes himself complete by wearing **a 
tall hat. ' ' Everything in this dream symbolises the 
reconquest of virility. The pictures discovered on 
the ground represent leaders (the father) ; they are 
pictures which were actually bought by George one 
evening when, in a transient fit of mental alienation, 



374. STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

he had groundlessly telegraphed to his brother, who 
was abroad: ^* Return immediately." As we have 
seen in other individuals of the same type as 
George/ the brother, like the father, symbolises the 
virility which the subject feels himself to be lacking 
in. It is to this virility that George launches the 
appeal: ** Return immediately." Asked for asso- 
ciations to ** leaders of the army," George said: 
^^My brother is on military service; I have never 
done mine."^ 

It is possible that the attitude of the subconscious 
towards the **father" explains George's strange 
action in IV, when he climbed on to a parapet over- 
looking the water in order to deliver his testimony. 
Here is a relevant reminiscence of travel. 

VIII. At Altorf. — ^We stopped to admire the statue 
of William Tell. What a splendid head; how it 
breathes determination and courage! A true Swiss, 
the man whom this statue represents. And his fine 
little boy, how boundless the confidence in his attitude, 
in the pretty face turned towards his father. 

My brother N. climbed on to one of the fountains 
and photographed us standing at the foot of the 
monument. 

We note with interest how climbing on to a para- 
pet beside the water is related with such images. 
William Tell is preeminent among heroes who re- 
fuse, and who strike down the ** leader" — the motif 

^ Otto, Alexander, and Roger. 

2 Cf . .similar associations in Alfred, infra. 



MENTAL DISORDERS 375 

of so many traditions. Snch traditions owe much 
of their influence to the fact that they invariably 
arouse as an echo in the mind the subconscious 
drama of the child and the father. William TelPs 
son, in turn, represents another aspect of the same 
drama. He ** turns towards his father" with 
"boundless confidence." With the same boundless 
confidence, George, impersonating Christ in the 
parapet episode, turns towards his divine Father. 
We may suspect in all this, vague relationships 
which it would be presumptuous to specify with more 
precision, but they remind us of a verse by Victor 
Hugo in the Mariage de Roland: 

**L'enfant songe a son pere et se tourne vers 
Dieu."^ 

We can now discern that the war which, in his 
mental alienation, George wishes to bring to an end, 
must be, before all, the subconscious war of the son 
against the "father." In like manner the "sin" 
has been a disobedience to the "father," and sin 
must now be atoned for. 

However much the details may vary in these last 
episodes, in essence they confirm our interpretation. 
We find in George's aberrations unmistakable ex- 
pressions of the complexes we have discovered in 
other introverts: homosexual fantasies; protest 
against the father; repression of virility. Even 
though the mental disorder may be primarily de- 

^ The child thinks of its father and turns towards God. — Cf . 
Vodoz, Roland, un symbole, Paris, 1920; and Bovet, Le sentiment 
filial et la religion, 1920. 



376 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

pendent upon a physiological state whicli has noth- 
ing to do with the complexes, it is upon the com- 
plexes that the specific aspect of the mental disorder 
depends. 



CHAPTER ELEVEN 

SUBLIMATIONS 

Sublimation is a compreliensive term, denoting 
every kind of successful derivation of instinctive 
energy towards ends possessing spiritual or moral 
value. Sometimes we speak of the sublimation of 
an instinct, and sometimes of the sublimation of a 
nervous disorder or of a symptom. At first, the 
latter use of the term may seem somewhat obscure, 
but it offers no difficulty to those who understand 
the bearing of what has just been said concerning 
* ^ derivation. ' ' When we say that an instinct is 
sublimated, we mean that a new and better channel 
has been opened for the current of instinct. When 
we say the same thing of a nervous disorder, we 
must recall that this disorder is itself a derivative, 
an undesirable derivative, of thwarted instinctive 
energy. To sublimate this trouble is to substitute a 
desirable derivative for an undesirable one. 

In the first two cases, those of Alfred and Ida, 
we are concerned with typical sublimations of cer- 
tain disorders. Nature has not waited for psycho- 
analysts to discover this means of salvation. The 
respective sublimations in Alfred and Ida are aris- 
ing spontaneously. So much the better ; the analyst 
must study these germinal sublimations. He will 

377 



378 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

do better to guide them where they exist rather than 
to attempt the imposition of some arbitrary subli- 
mation which might not be conformable to the sub- 
ject's disposition. For Alfred, the choice would 
appear to be between his neurosis and music. Ida 
sublimates into drawing, troubles of a sexual origin. 
In both cases I am content to guide, to encourage. 

Crises occur during the process of sublimation. 
It may be threatened by the assaults of crude in- 
stinct; it may vacillate between different paths, so 
that a state of conflict ensues. In the case of 
Gerard (studied in Chapter Six), sublimation was 
exposed to both these difficulties. A struggle be- 
tween sublimation and crude instinct is common in 
adolescents. In these cases the subject feels that 
his sublimation is imperilled, and keen distress is 
thereby aroused. Such is the case of Adam. A 
conflict arising from vacillation between two ends 
is manifest in Jeanne, who is simultaneously at- 
tracted by art and by moral and social activities. 
The position is complicated in her case because all 
the active forces of her being are in search of a new 
path. She is stirred, not only by the sexual instinct 
and the associated feelings, but also by the maternal 
instinct, which has no object to lavish itself on. 
In the case of Queenie, the aesthetic tendency does 
not alone suffikce, and part of the subject's energies 
are devoted to moral and religious feeling. 

It is in the guidance of sublimation that the ana- 
lyst does the finest work and incurs the greatest re- 
sponsibility. It is in this field that he becomes a 
veritable educationist and a spiritual director. 



SUBLIMATIONS 379 

1. Alfred 

Stammering. Maladaptation to Social Life. 
A Taste eob Music. 

Alfred has stammered, so he believes, since he was 
two or three years old. When he came to consult 
me he was twenty-two. He spoke in a rambling 
fashion, hardly giving me a chance to get in a word 
edgewise, and answering my questions irrelevantly. 
His movements were awkward. There was an evi- 
dent maladaptation to social life. 

The family history was bad. There were several 
neuropaths in the family, and a sister was under 
restraint. 

He was a bank clerk. He said that his stammer 
was most troublesome when he was at work. 

During the analysis, several of Alfred's dreams 
related to the sister who is in the asylum. There 
are many indications that his sister symbolises him- 
self, that his sister's mental condition is identified' 
in his mind with his own. Li the first dreams, the 
sister's case is hopeless. A little later, it appears 
that she will get well in time, but that *Hhe cure 
will be a lengthy affair." Alfred's concern regard- 
ing his future also finds expression in the dreams. 
He does not like his work at the bank, and wonders 
^*what he will do later." In the depths, this ques- 
tion seems to be at one with the problem of his cure. 
He dreamed on one occasion of another bank clerk 
who had been his fellow worker for four years, and 



aSO STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

who symbolised himself. In the dream, this com- 
panion spoke of throwing up his job. After the 
dream, Alfred remarked: ^^I stammer more when 
I am doing anything which bores me.'' But if the 
bank does not suit him, whither do his thoughts turn, 
and what is the **future" on which his mind dwells? 
Another series of dreams throws light on this mat- 
ter. Here is the first of the series. 

I. Last night I had a lovely dream. It was about 
music. I found myself in front of a shop where a 
number of music scores were exposed in the window. 
I felt happy, as if I were going to buy one of them, 
the one which seemed to me most beautiful in melody 
and in feeling. 

In another dream he was playing at railways as he 
used to when a child, but he had not much time for 
he was going to the theatre that evening. 

When analysing these dreams I learned that this 
simple bank clerk had a great love for music. All 
his leisure time was given to music. Not only could 
he sing without stammering, but he did not stammer 
when he was talking about music. ** Railway" pro- 
duced as association the reminiscence of a German 
tour, of a visit to German cities and to concerts 
where Alfred had received his strongest musical 
impressions. Moreover, the German tour and the 
thoughts concerning a future career were associated 
with the thought of an uncle, who occupied a good 
position in Germany. This uncle had shown an in- 
terest in Alfred, and perhaps would show more. 



SUBLIMATIONS 381 

Anotlier motif in Alfred's dreams gave expression 
to the wish for a vigorous, wholesome, and manly- 
life, one that should be unconstrained, the very op- 
posite to the life of constraint and maladaptation to 
society which the subject was now leading. 

II. I had a swimming lesson at the baths, but I 
could not learn to swim. The swimming master was 
the man who had been gymnastic master at school. 

Discussing this dream, he said: **I suppose I was 
learning to swim in order to get strong." Asked 
for associations to ' ^ gymnastic master, ' ' he thought 
of the gymnastic class, and of his schoolmates, with 
whom he compared himself to his own disadvantage. 

In the next dream, this motif becomes fused with 
that of music. 

III. I had another dream about music. I was sing- 
ing something from an operetta to a number of per- 
sons in a courtyard ; I was dressed as a soldier in uni- 
form. The audience was much moved. 

The associations to *' soldier" were similar to 
those to *^ swimming master" in the former dream. 
Alfred thinks that it was because of his stammer 
that he was regarded as unfit for military service. 
In the dream he is a soldier, so he is cured. He has 
attained to virility and self-assurance; but at the 
same time he devotes himself to music. 

The family history led me to suppose that a con- 
stitutional condition must underlie the subject's 



Sm STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

nervous disorder. Nevertheless, the close connec- 
tion in the dreams between the idea of music and 
the idea of cure, and the positive fact that when 
Alfred was thinking of music he ceased to stammer, 
were strong indications that music might have a 
definite therapeutic value. Everything happened as 
if a nervous excitability, partly constitutional and 
partly acquired, had to find an outlet in one of two 
alternative paths, the neurosis or the sesthetic sub- 
limation. 

His work as bank clerk, which was an obstacle to 
the sesthetic culture he longed for, aggravated his 
stammer. I had to make him understand that this 
defensive reaction was an inauspicious means of 
defence ; that, far from facilitating the development 
he longed for, it could only hinder that development. 

Autosuggestion and breathing exercises were 
practised concurrently with the analysis. I also 
encouraged the musical trend, while avoiding any 
implication that the subject had a musical career 
before him. 

After a month, a considerable improvement could 
be noted, both in respect of the awkwardness and of 
the stammer. At the bank, indeed, when in the 
presence of his chief, Alfred stammered as of old. 
There was doubtless at work here, in addition to 
the protest against his occupation, an infantile fear 
of the father, which had undergone a transference 
on to the chief. But I was unable to continue the 
analysis, for the subject had to leave Geneva. 



SUBLIMATIONS 383 



2. Ida 

Sexual Shock at Puberty. Maniacal Disturbances. 
Esthetic Sublimation. 

Ida belongs to a family endowed with artistic 
sensibilities. Her brother has produced some strik- 
ing specimens of automatic writing and of subcon- 
scious painting. She is sixteen years old. Her de- 
velopment was precocious, and she began to men- 
struate before she was twelve. Not very long after 
this period, she had a nervous shock. One evening, 
when it was already growing dark, she was on the 
rear platform of a tramcar, alone except for one 
other passenger, who took advantage of the situa- 
tion to practise exhibitionism and to make signifi- 
cant gestures. She did not understand what he 
meant, but the incident made a deep impression on 
her mind. 

Since then, at the menstrual periods, she has been 
subject to mental and nervous crises. Each crisis 
lasts several days, and is often quite alarming. The 
disturbance may take the form either of excessive 
cheerfulness or of melancholy; in addition it is apt 
to manifest itself in one of the two following ways : 

1. Sometimes the girl devotes herself to arrang- 
ing various objects ^ such as plants, dolls' clothing, 
etc., with meticulous care. One evening she actually 
went to sleep with the conviction that she had not 
finished this work of arrangement, and that it was 
essential to rise very early next morning in order 



384. STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

to prepare for the proper reception of visitors (who 
were quite imaginary). The ostensibly futile activ- 
ity she displays at such times is strangely dispro- 
portionate to the end in view and to the results 
secured. 

2. Sometimes the crisis takes the form of phobias, 
hallucinations, and ^maniacal speeches. These are 
all dominated by ideas of persecution. Incessantly 
there recurs in them the vision of a magician who 
has put an evil spell upon Ida, a spell which she 
believes she is unable to throw off. 

The second group of symptoms was readily com- 
prehensible. Manifestly the shock had induced a 
state of alarm, more or less subconscious, and con- 
nected with sexual matters. 

I considered that the first group of symptoms re- 
quired careful study. It is this study which I shall 
now describe. 

Ida did not take kindly to the analysis of her 
dreams, but I was able to study the arrangements 
of various objects which became such a passion for 
her during the successive crises. 

First of all I asked her parents whether she paid 
much attention to her dress. I received the answer 
I expected. Ida detests anything in the nature of 
coquetry, any special care for her attire, anything 
which she calls ^^ smart.'' On the other hand, she 
has innumerable dolls, and she dresses these with 
all the care which she withholds from her own attir- 
ing. 



SUBLIMATIONS 385 

The mechanisms of repression and substitution 
were manifest. To the alarm symbolised by the 
crises which took the form of ideas of persecution 
and of phobias, there was superadded a sense of 
disgust, likewise induced by the shock, and sym- 
bolised by the other crises. 

Disgust for sexual matters was transmuted into 
a disgust for coquetry; while coquetry was objecti- 
fied, dolls being substituted for her own person. 
This coquetry was even extended to all kinds of ar- 
rangements of objects. 

I subsequently learned that Ida was fond of draw- 
ing, painting, decorative work, etc., and that she had 
quite a talent for this sort of employment. Above 
all, she had a fancy for drawing stylate plants. 
In this occupation, presumably, there was an exten- 
sion of the same objectification. 

I examined her work. All the stylate plants were 
so arranged as to represent, with the persistency 
of a fixed idea, two symmetrical motifs separated by 
a central, elongated motif (the male organs). 

The other drawings and paintings were nearly all 
representations of landscape; in nine out of ten of 
these landscapes, trees played the dominant role. 
There was a preference in favour of fir trees; the 
shapes were conical and elongated, and the verdure 
recalled that of pines or of ferns. The first land- 
scape represented a solitary pine. In the others 
the stress was always on a tree which occupied an 
excessively prominent position in the picture, stand- 
ing right in the foreground. I had not commented 



386 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

on this when the young artist said to me: **I can 
draw anything I like qnite well, except trees, I find 
them so difficult; they don't come easily/' 

A tree, with its foliage and its conical form, was 
obviously a sexual symbol, and it is a familiar fact 
that it plays this part in dreams. To the subject it 
symbolised the repressed vision, and that is why the 
tree **did not come easily." 

Next I examined the dolls. The older ones rep- 
resented ladies in huge hats, and wearing enor- 
mously large dresses, like crinolines. The later ones 
were more interesting; women and men (more of 
the latter) wearing sugar-loaf hats. The conical 
form which was so notable in the trees of the land- 
scapes, turned up here with the same fixity. In 
the most recent doll, the head had been entirely 
replaced by a cone ; and this cone, instead of sticking 
up like a hat, curved forwards into a point. Two 
huge spheres represented the eyes, from which there 
projected a curled feather like a tuft of hair. An- 
other tuft grew from the forehead, forming a kind 
of central eyebrow. 

As for the dolls wearing pointed hats, Ida called 
them ^* magicians." Thus all these creations were 
linked with the ** magician" who appeared in the 
maniacal crises. Aposteriori, therefore, we obtained 
a verification of the kinship of the two kinds of 
crisis. 

The crises of objectified coquetry thus seemed to 
be in search of a cure by means of a spontaneous 
jEsthetic sublimation. The juxtaposition of the ma- 
gician of the maniacal attacks with the doll magi- 



SUBLIMATIONS 387 

cian might even lead us to suppose that this par- 
ticular sublimation was tending to become an outlet 
for both kinds of crisis. Such an objectification of 
coquetry, which loses all its sexual and interested 
significance when displaced from the person on to 
things, is unquestionably a phenomenon which must 
not be overlooked when we are attempting to explain 
the ultimate genesis of the plastic arts. As for the 
transformation of the alarming into the beautiful 
(seen here in the magician), is not this, in miniature, 
what Nietzsche considers to be the *^ origin of 
tragedy''! It might even be interesting to trace, in 
this effort towards the sublimation of the two kinds 
of crisis (dionysiac crises of mania and apollinian 
crises of dressing up), an epitomised version of the 
duplex genesis of art as conceived by Nietzsche, that 
amazing forerunner of psychoanalytical ideas. How- 
ever this may be, such subconscious initiations of 
sBsthetic trends in individual minds can certainly 
help us to a better understanding of the origin and 
function of art in the life of mankind. 

In Ida's case, art seems to have been her salva- 
tion. I advised her parents to encourage and guide 
the spontaneous sublimation, although I hardly ex- 
pected that this would suffice. I saw Ida again six 
months later. She had been resolutely and exclu- 
sively influenced in the direction of her art, and had 
shown that she possessed real talent. Her mental 
troubles had vanished. Her bodily development, 
which had been for some time arrested, had now 
taken such a stride that I hardly recognised her. 



388 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

3, Adam 

Sublimation in Danger 

The phenomenon I am now about to describe is 
far from rare, but I cannot deny myself the pleas- 
ure of recording a dream in which this phenomenon 
is expressed by a peculiarly apt symbol. It relates 
to the feeling that a sublimation (the religious subli- 
mation in this case) is imperilled by the urge of the 
crude instinct upon which the sublimation is based. 
We have already encountered the phenomenon in 
the analysis of one of our adolescent subjects, 
Gerard. For practical purposes, we are dealing 
with the old conflict between the ** spirit'' and the 
** flesh" under one of its most distressing aspects. 

There is no occasion to give a detailed analysis. 
Suffice it to note a few of the traits which will con- 
vey a sketch of the individuality with which we are 
concerned. 

Adam complains of deficient mental concentration, 
and of difficulties in the sphere of action, of a lack 
of amiability. He finds it very difficult to argue, 
even in defence of ideas to which he is devoted. 
Maladaptation to social life, introversion, are obvi- 
ous. Aged twenty-seven, he has had no experience 
of sexual intercourse. A divinity student, he is 
one of those men in whom moral elevation is tinged 
with austerity. He is aware of this austerity, re- 
gards it as a fault, and would like to correct it. 
The analysis will help him to do so. 



SUBLIMATIONS 389 

Here are some free associations, by whicli is meant 
associations that do not have as their starting point 
a dream or reminiscence, but such as arise when 
isolated words are uttered. These associations, 
which were noted at Adam's first sitting, immedi- 
ately disclosed certain cardinal points. 

I. The subject thinks of a *' statue of Justice *' on 
a fountain in Berne ; the eyes of the figure of Justice 
are bandaged. This image is associated with a mem- 
ory of 'HheBear Pit.*' 

Asked for associations to **eyes bandaged,'' the 
subject recalls a scene from childhood. His brother 
and he, before going to sleep, used to amuse them- 
selves by jumping from bed to bed ; one evening the 
brother fell and cut his forehead. ** Change of 
beds" called up the wish to leave home, ^*to be no 
longer dependent on my father." To the words 
**cut his forehead" came the memory of another 
romp when he had wounded himself in like fashion 
** trying to hide." In another association, he re- 
membered how a bee had stung him on the eyelid. 
*^They tied up my eye." Now, ** bandaged eye" 
which had thus appeared for the second time, gave 
fresh associations. He has eye trouble; an oculist 
whom he consulted thought it might be due to mas- 
turbation. The words **hide oneself," which had 
originally appeared on the scene in connection with 
the cut forehead, called up **the shamefulness of 
masturbation. ' ' 

To the word *' mother," Adam answered that he 



390 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

had been very fond of his mother, and that up to the 
age of ten he had told her everything. To the word 
** father," he said: ^'Disagreeable memories." He 
added that his father was ** despotic" towards wife 
and family: **We were all afraid of him." 

II. A hazy sort of place, where he seems to have 
been. It was a nine days' journey. — Now the image 
had cleared up. He recognised the place. There was 
a little inn with only one bed. The sheets had not 
been changed ; a couple had slept there before him and 
had **made a mess.'* 

Subsequently, during the analysis of a dream, 
Adam produced some remarkable associations apro- 
pos of a *' ravine." They supplement and confirm 
the following: 

The nine days' journey brought us to the nine 
months of pregnancy, and the **hazy sort of place 
where he seems to have been" corresponded to a 
fantasy of the return to the mother's womb. This 
new expression of fixation on the mother was linked 
with a disgust for sexuality, which appeared to be 
related with impressions received in childhood con- 
cerning acts of sexual intercourse by his parents. 

It would be superfluous to give further details of 
this kind. We have enough to disclose the psycho- 
logical type of the subject with whom we are deal- 
ing. There is a well-marked (Edipus complex. 
Sexuality has been repressed, but a strong feeling 
of remorse attends the memory of certain sins of 
adolescence, which the subject considers to be the 



SUBLIMATIONS 391 

cause of his extant inferiority. He regards the lat- 
ter as a just punishment for sin, and this to him is 
the signijficance of the symbol of Justice ^^with ban- 
daged eyes.'' It is just that he should have **eye 
troubles.'' 

Let us pass on to the dream which is especially 
worthy of attention. This is a nightmare dating 
from adolescence, and which at that epoch Adam was 
wont to have every night. 

III. He is climbing a mountain. In front of him 
is a rock. He wishes to turn back. Behind him he 
sees a bear. He throws his arms round the bear and 
drags the aaimal towards a precipice; he and the 
bear fall over together, and he awakes. 

The *^ mountain" always calls up in his mind ^^the 
ascent towards the ideal." The **rock" makes him 
think of three blocks which were found in the earth 
when the foundations of a church were being dug. 
Quite apart from what we have learned from anal- 
ysis in other subjects, the associations to the dreams 
of this particular subject lead us to suppose that 
the ** three blocks" symbolise the genital organs. 
The idea is strikingly confirmed when, speaking of 
the three blocks, the subject says : 

These stones [they had been disinterred when he 
was seventeen years old] were exhibited. ''It was a 
pity" that they were exhibited without any explana- 
tion. 

A moment later, and not in any conscious rela- 
tionship to what had gone before, he went on : 



392 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

*'It was a pity" that I was not told anything about 
sexual matters. 



As for the *'bear,'' this calls up the ''Bear Pit" 
at Berne. We already know that this Bear Pit is 
in its turn associated with ''Justice with bandaged 
eyes." But we do not need to draw inferences; the 
subject does this for himself, and without even pass- 
ing by way of the figure of ' ' Justice with bandaged 
eyes." The struggle with the bear calls up without 
transition, though he does not know wherefore, "the 
struggle with masturbation." 

Thus the interpretation of the dream is quite sim- 
ple. As he is on his way up the mountain, the 
subject encounters an obstacle (the rock), sexuality; 
wishing to avoid this he rediscovers it in another 
form (the bear), masturbation. Struggling with the 
bear, he falls into the abyss. This nightmare, which 
dates from the period of his preparation for the re- 
ligious life, expresses the anguish of sin, the dread 
of having his upward progress arrested, the fear of 
ruining the incipient sublimation. The symbolism 
grows still more striking when we consider the 
"three blocks." The church which is to be built 
must have its foundations in the ground where the 
three blocks are; but the blocks are in the way of 
the foundations. Could there be a better expression 
of the view that the budding sublimation (the church 
in course of construction) is rooted in the very soil 
where the crude instinct was slumbering, and that 
this is why the instinct is so dangerous to the subli- 
mation? 



SUBLIMATIONS 393 

4, Jecmne 

NON'-ACCEPTANCE OF MaERIAGE. ThWABTED MaTEB- 

NAii Instinct. Vacillating Sublimation. 

Jeanne belongs to a type we are familiar with. 
"We have seen it in embryo in the little girls Linette 
and Mireille ; in a fully developed form, in the young 
woman Kitty; and in a pathological variant, in 
Eenee, a woman in her prime. Jeanne exhibits fixa- 
tion upon the mother, some degree of refusal of 
femininity, and a few virile character traits. 

It would seem that in her case the negative aspect 
of the complex is more conspicuous than the posi- 
tive. Infantile hostility towards the lather is more 
marked than fixation upon the mother. When she 
was a child, she thought her father **ugly." She 
was *' afraid of his eyes.'' At the age of eight she 
admired him, for he regarded her as clever. Sub- 
sequently, however, he was fond of saying that 
** there was no need for her to study, since she was 
only a woman.'' This aroused a spirit of revolt. 
Afterwards she was educated by her mother, away 
from the father. Her mother read Victor Hugo to 
her, and awakened in her a taste for art. The 
father cared only for his son, and, quite under the 
influence of the ancient prejudice, made an exclusive 
favourite of this heir of his name. Jeanne made 
common cause with her mother, and took up the 
cudgels on behalf of her sister against her father 
and her brother. Predisposed by this attitude, she 
then adopted feminist views. 



394 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

She herself declared that in her most instinctive 
and ^^ primitive" nature there was ** something mas- 
culine, something combative, something pugnacious." 
Though married, she has never really accepted mar- 
riage. She says she consented to be married as a 
refuge, from ^* dread of life" from fear that she 
might have a love affair of which her parents would 
disapprove. At the very time when she was about 
to marry, she said : ' * I would much rather marry a 
woman than a man." 

The marriage was unhappy. At the date of the 
analysis, Jeanne was thirty-one. She had been 
divorced for a year. During her marriage she suf- 
fered both physically and morally. About seven 
years ago she had begun to have a nightmare, which 
had frequently recurred. 

I. She had lost her wedding-ring. She awoke with 
a start. 

As is often the case, the symbol of losing the wed- 
ding-ring already implied the desire for a rupture 
of relations; however, in the earlier days of this 
nightmare, Jeanne used to find the lost ring. Later 
there was a modification in the dream, for she did 
not succeed in finding the lost ring. Towards the 
close of her life with her husband, she suffered for 
a time from syphilophobia, having a fixed idea that 
she had been infected by the husband. Happily this 
was no more than a delusion, and the conviction that 
she had been mistaken mitigated, though it did not 
entirely relieve, the jarring of the nerves which had 



SUBLIMATIONS 396 

been caused by tbe disputes and miseries of the last 
years of her wedded life. 

Here are some reminiscences of childhood which 
will enable us to understand Jeanne's personality. 

II. Jeanne was not yet three years old. She had 
run away from home on an exploring expedition, carry- 
ing a stick. She went down to the sea shore, and 
then she did not know where else to go. It was 
there that she was found. 

**Eunning away" called up in Jeanne's mind **to 
get free.'' Asked for an association to the word 
'^home," she said that that day she *^had run away 
from her mother," and that subsequently she had 
wanted to ^'free herself from the spell of her 
mother." The mother, *Uhough gentle and affec- 
tionate, made me fell that my will was paralysed." 
Would it not have been more accurate to say, ^'be- 
cause gentle and affectionate"? Here we have a 
case in which it is obvious that the subconscious fixa- 
tion upon one of the parents must not be regarded as 
synonymous with attachment in the comprehensive 
sense of that term. A subject may suffer on account 
of such a fixation, may protest against it, and may 
wish to be free from it. Eepulsed by the father, and 
eager to throw off the * ^mother's spell," Jeanne 
gained an insurgent and independent character. 
Asked for associations to ** exploring, " she said: 
^'Inquisitive eagerness to know, to touch, and to 
see." It is the forbidden fruit; it is a positive 



396 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

effort to break away from the motlier, an effort which 
reminds ns of the cases of Linette and Mireille. 
The explorer with a stick in the hand tad been seen 
by the child in the form of an Epinal plaster cast, 
and she wanted to imitate what she had seen. Hence- 
forward she assumes a virile attitude. Life on the 
sea shore is for Jeanne a free life, instinctive, the 
life of the wild. To her the ^^ instinctive'^ and the 
'^wild" always connote the idea of '* masculine." 

^^She did not know where else to go.^' She gave 
me details of her feeling in this respect. First of 
all she found it pleasant to stay by the sea ; then she 
felt rather lost, for there was **no one to give me 
a hand.'' This brought us to her present derelict 
condition, to the lack of a guide after the disillusion- 
ment of marriage. Then came the associations, 
^*cut" and ** broken," which had already appeared 
several times apropos of her divorce. 

This reminiscence, the earliest incident she can 
remember, is what anyone's earliest reminiscence is 
apt to be/ By condensation it has become a sketch 
of the subject's character, and an epitome of her 
history. 

Here is another reminiscence, no less typical. 

III. An accident. — Jeanne was with a little boy 
who, like herself, was from five and a half to six years 
old. It was on the sea shore, and there was a tub full 

^ Cf. Bovet's analysis of Tolstoy's earliest memory and of the 
two earliest memories of L. Artus-Perrelet, in the preface to 
Artus-Perrelet, Le dessin au service de I'education. 



SUBLIMATIONS B97 

of water in which the two children were sailing boats. 
Jeanne fell into the tnb. She remembered the story 
of a little girl who, having tumbled into the water, 
kicked off from the bottom in order to rise to the 
surface. She did the same; the little boy seized her, 
and called for help. 

It is interesting to note how this reminiscence is 
in line with some of the dreams of Linette and 
Mireille, dreams of accidents, and especially of im- 
mersions : an accident following an attempt to get 
away from the mother, to touch the forbidden fruit, 
and especially at the close of a romp with some little 
boys (Linette, dream V; Mireille, dream III). The 
reminiscence is so remarkably persistent because of 
its connection with a frequent symbol. 

But the fixity of the reminiscence is increased 
because of condensation with a recent *^ accident," 
that of marriage. One day Jeanne's mother had 
told the little boy that he would be Jeanne's hus- 
band. The little boy took the thing quite seriously, 
and made presents to Jeanne. She ^'detested him,',' 
but did not dare to say anything, believing her fate 
to be sealed. Here we have the same passivity as 
that which she was to exhibit later, when submitting 
to a marriage which inwardly she repudiated. The 
*^tub" gave as associations ** something dirty," 
* * repugnance, "a * * dead animal. ' ' Putting all these 
things together, we see that underlying them is a 
disgust for sexuality. The kick-off from the bottom 
of the water calls up the words *' anger" and ^' re- 
sistance." Here we have the buoyancy of a nature 



398 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

fundamentally energetic, one familiar with revolt; 
we have a determination not to give in. The whole 
reminiscence is in conformity with Jeanne's present 
situation. 

The closing words *^ called for help" were asso- 
ciated in Jeanne's mind with certain nightmares in 
which she had a sense of powerlessness and from 
which she ''awoke screaming." Especially, she 
mentioned the following recent nightmare : 

lY. She was in bed; someone approached with, a 
knife. She was awakened by her own *^ screaming." 

The associations showed plainly that the dream 
expressed the fear and disgust inspired by sexu- 
ality, and that these feelings were linked with the 
subject's hostility to the father. 

Here are the associations : 

Knife. Dread of knives. Something cold. Cold 
water [compare this with the *'tub" in III]. Tools, 
a saw, a plane. At sight of these tools, Jeanne felt as 
if they were being used on her. 

Screaming. Sore throat, hoarseness. Ungovernable 
fits of passion in childhood when Jeanne had screamed 
at the top of her voice. Her father had wanted to 
make her eat an undercooked egg in which the white 
had not set ; it was then she had screamed like this. 

Undercooked egg in wJiich the white had not set. 
Disgusting. Feeling sick. Nausea induced by mis- 
interpretations of innocent feelings. Jeanne's sister 
had been passionately fond of a young aunt. Some- 
one had regarded this fondness as a sign of perver- 
sion. 



SUBLIMATIONS 399 

To everyone familiar with the practice of psycho- 
analysis, the sexual allusions in these associations 
are obvious. Indeed, they can hardly be overlooked 
even by those unfamiliar with the method. Com- 
ment is superfluous, but it may be useful to compare 
Jeanne's associations with some of those of Eenee 
or of Mireille. More especially we should compare 
the disgust inspired by the imperfectly cooked white 
of egg which her father compels her to eat, with the 
disgust inspired in Eenee by the father's expectora- 
tion (Eenee, V). We are also reminded of the sym- 
bol ^^ white of egg^^ in one of Mireille 's dreams 
(Mireille, VIII). 

The voice which grows ** hoarse" (masculine) 
through screaming in anger against the father, and 
the concluding allusion to homosexuality, underline 
the fact that Jeanne's virile attitude is linked with 
protest against the father and against sexuality. 

Here is a dream which gives us some precise de- 
tails. May we say numerical details? Anyhow it 
was of a strange form, and is worth noting on its 
own account. 

V. [Overnight, Jeanne had been reading a Pytha- 
gorean work on ^'Numbers."] She saw herself on the 
top of a hill. Her parents were represented by the 
figure 2; she herself, her sister, and her brother, by 
the figure 3. There were 10 boys and 12 girls ar- 
ranged in order of height like Pan-pipes. Her father 
said something about lorgnettes — 15 or 17. — She took 
one and saw a courtyard with a seething mass of a 
striped grey colour. There were 80 cats. She saw 



4iOO STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

a scriptural town with a tower shaped like a truncated 
oval cone. On the tower were a dead elephant, a dead 
tiger, and a wounded white bear with which her father 
was fighting. Her father killed the bear and said they 
must get into the tower to shelter there from the cave- 
lion. . . . There were arabesques on the tower, bright 
blue and yellow '* primary colours." — They took 
refuge in the tower ; in it there was a square hall where 
there was a wedding breakfast in progress ; the bride 
was like Jeanne's sister. She was listening through a 
microphone to her ^'fiance" who was in the next room. 
In the middle there was a table with 32 children, all 
children up to 16. One child of 16 was complaining 
at not having been seated among the grown-ups, for 
it was bored. Everything was arranged in a gradu- 
ated series like Pan-pipes, except for the cats, which 
were in a heap. 

The tower and the wedding breakfast symbolise 
marriage. This interpretation was confirmed by a 
number of allusions and associations. We can un- 
derstand, therefore, why the tower was ^ * truncated. * ' 
To this word came as associations " broken '* and 
** smashed,'' which represent divorce. The cats 
were ^*a crowd of cats attracted by a she-cat." As 
for the wild beasts, these called up in Jeanne **the 
wild and masculine instincts" of her nature. Once 
more these instincts showed themselves to be en- 
gaged in a struggle with the father. The latter says 
that they must ^^take refuge" in the tower. We 
know that Jeanne agreed to marriage as a ^ * refuge. ' ' 
But this marriage was never really accepted. That 
is why the bridegroom is degraded into a ** fiance," 



SUBLIMATIONS 401 

is sent into the *'next room," and is listened to 
through the ** microphone/' 

Jeanne recalls that the number **2,'' which in the 
dream represents her parents, signifies in *^ Pytha- 
goras'' ** antagonism. " She has always regarded 
**10" as beautiful and complete; 10 was her age 
when she made her first communion. The age of 
**12" is one of liberty, nature, instinctive life. There 
are *'10 boys and 12 girls," because at the age of 
10 she was still quite a child, sexless or rather boy- 
ish, but at the age of 12 she began to feel like a 
girl. There is the same contrast, but more sharply 
marked, between ^^15 and 17." This is a ^* critical 
age." The ^ lorgnettes" associated with these 
numbers, the lorgnettes given by the father, and 
used in order to look at the *'mass of cats," are an 
obvious sexual allusion. At the age of 15, Jeanne 
was *4ike a boy." But the era of conflicts was be- 
ginning. As far as she can remember, 15 in 
*^ Pythagoras" is simultaneously **the Ascension" 
and the * * spirit of evil. ' ' At the age of 16 she was 
sentimental, and passed through a neurasthenic 
phase (this is why, in the dream, the child of 16 is 
bored). At the age of 17 she **forced" herself to 
be cheerful. She began to live the life of a woman. 
At that age, making an effort to satisfy her mother, 
she became ^* superficial, worldly, and well-bred." 
She had *^a loud, grating, forced laugh, which people 
commented on." By an auditory association, the 
number 15 called up the tinkling of a bell from a 
Christmas tree. She had had it when she was a 
child ; had been very fond of it, and had been greatly 



402 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

distressed when it was broken. The tone of this 
bell, thus associated with memories of the fifteenth 
year, was deep, not lond, and it contrasted with the 
grating laugh of her seventeenth year. Her present 
age is *'32.'' She thinks that between the ages of 
17 and 32 her life was on the wrong track. But 32, 
in * ^ Pythagoras, ' ' signifies *^ wisdom.'' 

In fact, at the present time, she considers that she 
has pulled herself together, that she has become 
aware of her true instincts, is cultivating them by 
sublimation, and is thus attaining wisdom. She has 
artistic occupations, social and metaphysical aspira- 
tions. She is interested in theosophy; that is why 
she has been reading '* Pythagoras." 

Inasmuch as ' * the tower has been truncated, ' ' the 
aspiration towards human love has been repressed. 
Absorbed in new interests, Jeanne renounces all 
thought of the life of feeling. She says : * * The 
feeling of love — I shouldn't know what to make of 
it now." Nevertheless, the repressed emotion de- 
livers its assault subconsciously; all the more vigor- 
ously, doubtless, because (as in Gerard's case) her 
mind is vacillating between alternative paths of 
sublimation. 

One of her dreams gives a faithful picture of a 
nature-man who reenters by the window. 

VI. A man [who in real life is on the point of being 
divorced] enters by the window wearing the uniform 
of a colonel in the Chasseurs d'Afrique. She recog- 
nises his apelike forehead. 



SUBLIMATIONS 403 

The man in tlie case is obviously a substitute for 
the husband. *^ Enters by the window" calls up as 
an association **turn out through the door.'' 

In a fantasy during the waking state there ap- 
pears a ** squeaking door." The associations are: 

VII. Boor, A door which is no longer of any use. 
Squeaking. The revolt of the bodily nature against 

pain. 

The following dream is extremely vivid: 

VIII. A male being. — A courtyard, small trees, and 
a great shadow like that of a huge, unseen tree. 

To the man vaguely present, Jeanne showed an 
oblong flower-stand filled with very dry sand, in which, 
however, some shoots of asparagus were sprouting. 
It also contained a little cutthig from a tree, a cutting 
no thicker than the finger. She was amazed to see 
that this was sprouting. She had cut the plants down, 
believing that they were done with. She was aston- 
ished to find that this little cutting had such big roots. 
She planted it out again in a flower-pot which the male 
being handed her. 

The scene recalled one with which she was ac- 
quainted in real life ; the courtyard was raised upon 
a conical-shaped construction, truncated. This is 
akin to the tower of dream V. The shape of the 
oblong flower-stand likewise recalls the tower. This 
oblong shape, that of the egg and likewise that of 
the ovary, is not infrequent in such dreams. The 
putting is the corresponding male symbol. [The 



404 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

word ^HronQon," cutting, is kindred in sound and 
significance to ^Hronque/'] ** Cutting" calls up 
**cut last year'' — the year of the divorce. The 
flower-stand calls up *^a commonplace affair, a 
flower-stand which Father gave to Mother, one with 
artificial flowers ; I admired it, but at the same time 
I thought it stupid." Apropos of ^^very dry sand," 
she thought of **a marriage which was not able to 
become fruitful." Apropos of the plants which she 
had thought **done with," she said that of late she 
had been inclined ^^to think everything done with." 
This dream also aroused memories dating from her 
twelfth year, the period when Jeanne had ^^ broken 
away from her father," and had risen against him 
**as every woman rises against every man." The 
dream contains a condensation of the old-time 
'^breaking away" from the father with the recent 
divorce. It is the integral repression, both in its 
primal cause and in its immediate determinant. But 
the repressed instinct has not been annihilated. 
Jeanne explicitly repudiates this instinct, and 
** would not know what to make of the feeling of 
love." Nevertheless, the sprouting is a renascence. 
It would, of course, be a mistake to interpret this 
dream as sexual in the narrower sense of the term, 
though we might plausibly thus interpret dream VI. 
For dream VIII, a more widely conceived interpreta- 
tion is requisite. In it we have a fantasy of fecun- 
dity, in conformity with the wishes Jeanne now 
feels to *'make her life fruitful" with fecund activ- 
ities. * * She had thought everything was done with, ' ' 
and she is being reborn into life. She gladly accepts 



SUBLIMATIONS 405 

the idea to which the analysis is leading ns, that, 
instead of trying to ignore her instincts, she must 
become fully conscious of them, so as to establish 
thereon a sublimation which shall not be founded 
upon repressions or built over a volcano. 

The idea of fecundity leads us to another instinct, 
thwarted if not repressed — the maternal instinct. 
This also is in search of a happy derivation, a spirit- 
ualisation. The literary and artistic works in which 
Jeanne seeks self-expression manifest the fact 
clearly. The motif of the mother and child is pre- 
ponderant. In one of her imaginative writings, she 
says that she presses her art to her bosom as a 
mother presses her child. 

Moreover, Jeanne's ** masculine" trends have not 
been repudiated. Will they undergo sublimation in 
the choice of an artistic career of a kind usually 
reserved for men? Such a choice would, indeed, be 
an effective protest against a father who said that 
study was needless for a woman. Or shall we find 
a more active type of sublimation — ^perhaps social 
work of a feminist character ? In these respects we 
discern a conflict, or at any rate a vacillation, which 
is disclosed in the following dream. 

IX. Jeanne is in an underground passage. . . . 
Above is a flooring surmounted by rooms. She sud- 
denly remembers that in one of these upper rooms a 
woman is imprisoned, a prostitute, a spy, and a thief, 
sentenced to be shot. Jeanne recalls having seen her 
at the trial, having noted her impassioned expression 
and her pale face. Jeanne said to herself: **It is not 



406 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

the woman whom I wish to save, but her mind, so that 
she may learn the value of her suffering and her life. ' ' 
Jeanne wanted to bribe the warder and the general. 
She got permission to enter the woman's room to 
make a portrait of her, but was not allowed to talk to 
her. Suddenly Jeanne realised that this woman was 
feeling sympathetic towards her. When Jeanne was 
leaving the cell, the woman silently slipped an emerald 
ring on to the visitor's j&nger. Then the woman tried 
to sell her some jewels; she talked superficially, and 
Jeanne said to herself: ''All the same, there's a lot of 
good in her. ' ' — ^Blows on the flooring were now heard. 
Jeane knew it was a bust being broken. Half awake, 
she said to herself: ^'Someone has discovered that I 
have a duty towards women, and someone has broken 
this bust." Someone, in her thought, was an occult 
force. 

The '^underground passage" recalled to Jeanne 
reminiscences of her ninth year, reminiscences of 
her *' explorations ' ' in dark comers. The impris- 
oned woman has many traits which show that she 
symbolises Jeanne herself. The *' general" and the 
futilities about the jewels and the words of the pris- 
oner, are linked with reminiscences of Jeanne's sev- 
enteenth year (see commentary on dream V), and 
of the worldly and superficial life which Jeanne 
found so repugnant. On the other hand, the im- 
prisoned woman is also woman in general, under the 
conditions of slavery and futility imposed by society. 
By working to set woman free, Jeanne will set herself 
free ; that is to say, she will provide a pleasant and 
useful outlet for her tendencies towards virility ( ex- 



SUBLIMATIONS 407 

ploration) and towards protest against tlie father 
(the general). The fact that in the dream she is 
forbidden to talk to the woman, recalls the difficulty 
which she finds, in real life, in getting into touch with 
others, the difficulty whereby her social impulses are 
paralysed. She cannot openly acknowledge in the 
dream that she wants to set the woman free, so she 
pretends that she wants to draw the woman's por- 
trait. Then, she cannot talk to the prisoner, so is 
satisfied with making a picture of her. Here are 
two different ways of expressing the same fact, that 
art has been for Jeanne a surreptitious method of 
realising a tendency to which she could not or dared 
not give direct expression. The ^'bust,'' at the close 
of the dream, is likewise linked to Jeanne's artistic 
work. ^ * Someone ' ' breaks the bust because Jeanne 
has a duty towards women. This signifies that art, 
or at any rate art for art's sake, does not entirely 
satisfy her, for fundamentally she is under the in- 
fluence of the call of social duty. 

But the conflict lying at the root of the trouble 
appears in all its complexity in the following dream, 
which is full of apt symbols. 

X. She is m a great park, damp and gloomy, **at 
this season of the year" (autumn). There is a cen- 
tury-old house, in the French style, consisting of a 
ground floor, and an attic occupying one side only of 
the roof. Jeanne is far away. She knew that the 
house was occupied by a woman married to the owner 
of an ironworks, like the hero of Georges Ohnet's book, 
The Ironmaster. The woman knew her duty but did 



408 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

not love her husband. At night, clad in a close-fitting 
garment, she left the house by the window. She 
strolled in the park, along an alley like the arms of a 
cross. She leaned her elbows on a ledge, and looked 
down over a luminous lowland. Just below she saw 
a pathway which brought back memories of the days 
when she was betrothed. She says to herself : **I have 
three windows." She turns and perceives that some- 
one is looking at her from within. It is her husband 's 
secretary. She loses her self-possession, for she feels 
that she has forfeited her good name. She goes up 
to the attic and throws herself from the window. 
There is a sound of broken glass ; the artery in her left 
wrist is cut. 

Next, Jeanne sees a pastrycook's where cakes are 
displayed upon dirty shelves. A crowd. Jeanne ap- 
proaches the injured woman. The husband is there; 
he is a doctor. The artery cannot be tied, the woman 
is mad. She wants to rise. Her husband says: **It 
doesn't matter, seeing that she's lost." 

Next Jeanne is taking a walk with two children. 
She goes with them into a wood. They gather cycla- 
mens. . . . Again she is in the house. Jeanne herself 
is the invalid. Someone says: *'You no longer treat 
this from the chest, but from the back." They place 
a mustard plaster on Jeanne's back and her reason is 
restored. 

The words **at this season of the year" doubtless 
serve to emphasise the fact that the dream relates 
to the present state of Jeanne's crisis, whereas 
** century-old house" reminds us that the root-causes 
of the crisis date back many years. The park re- 
calls the nineteenth year of Jeanne's age, when she 



SUBLIMATIONS 409 

underwent a change of personality; it recalls the 
tentative efforts at poetical expression which she 
made at that time. The house calls up a country 
mansion Jeanne had seen that year; it is **a deep, 
sincere life'' in revolt against 'Hhe superficial life" 
which she had tried to impose upon herself. The 
references to her husband need no comment. The 
**deep, sincere" life which rebels, is the life which, 
even to-day, seeks an outlet, a ** window," in order 
that it may become a reality. The ^ ' three windows ' ' 
evoke very precise associations. These windows 
symbolise certain appropriate exits from the crisis. 
There were ^ ' two artificial windows and one natural 
window in the forest." The ** natural window" 
symbolises a way out by yielding to brute instinct; 
the two ** artificial windows" appear to be the two 
sublimations — aesthetic and social — ^between which 
Jeanne is vacillating. The symbol of the * ^ two chil- 
dren" stresses the social outlet, an outlet which the 
maternal instinct is also seeking. The dream chil- 
dren call up by association ^*poor children," studies 
which Jeanne would like to have undertaken in the 
past and which she hopes to undertake now in order 
to help children by means of educational work. 
The pastrycook's is once more the repulsive aspect 
of the sexual instinct (cakes on dirty shelves). 
*' Loses self-possession," ^^cut," ^^mad" — all refer 
to the present crisis, more especially in reference to 
the nervous disorders which it is our endeavour to 
cure. The final detail — the comparison of the two 
treatments — is one of the most delightful. The 
treatment **by the chest" calls up the following asso- 



410 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

ciations: ** reduced the iiiflammation of the chest, 
treat with kindness''; the treatment ^'by the back'' 
calls up ** energy. '* The significance of the two 
^^treatments'' is soon made clear. As usual, I was 
treating the subject concurrently by suggestion and 
psychoanalysis. While practising the latter, I faced 
the subject; for the practice of the former I stood 
behind her. During the analysis the subject un- 
burdens her heart, reduces the inflammation of the 
chest; this is treating with kindness. Suggestion is 
more energetic. Jeamie's subconscious informs us 
that the main task of the analysis has been accom- 
plished ; it is now necessary to lay stress upon sug- 
gestion. Believed of the burden of the past, Jeanne 
demands that she herself shall be given the strength 
to guide her own destinies in the future. To Jeanne, 
whose main difficulty now lay in her vacillation be- 
tween the two sublimations, this firmness of purpose 
seemed far more important than the indefinite pro- 
longation of the analysis. 

5. Qneenie 

Fixation upon the Father. -Esthetic and re- 
ligious Sublimation. 

Queenie was well aware of her attachment to her 
father. Her attachment to him was intensified 
when he married again. This marriage took place 
when Queenie was three years old. The step- 
mother was unkind to the little girl. (Queenie was 
nine months old when her mother died.) Her youth 
was dominated by two feelings: attachment to the 



i 

SUBLIMATIONS 411 

father; protest against the step-mother. Certain 
actions which had entailed great sacrifices had been 
undertaken for one reason only: to give pleasure 
to her father ; to fulfil the wishes of the father. 

Two, almost identical, memories of childhood, 
which Queenie told me at the same sitting, give elo- 
quent expression to these two fundamental feelings. 
In addition, the two memories show that around 
these feelings, other analogous feelings are gathered 
by condensation. The analysis shows (nay, it is 
fairly obvious while we read the reminiscences) that 
the severe mistress becomes hideous through con- 
densation with the step-mother; the professor, on 
the other hand, ^^ shaggy rather than attractive," 
is loved because he is the symbol of the father. The 
reminiscences are characteristic. Here is the first: 

I. I was twelve years old. , . . The mistress did not 
like me, and / her less! Why? Such things are dif- 
ficult to explain. First of all she was ugly, slatternly ; 
I loved things that were beautiful; what particularly 
haunted me were her eyes ; they were huge, grey eyes, 
wicked-looking eyes; with no soul in them for under- 
standing children, it seemed to me. She used to get 
into towering passions, especially when I did not know 
my geography lesson. And then! — oh, then! — seizing 
me by the curls which adorned my brow, she shook me 
like a plum tree. 

I was at that time very delicate and excitable. These 
shakings upset me to such a degree that, for some days 
after, my head would ache, and every time I saw her 
I was seized with a trembling fit. I never wept, but 



4.12 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

remained quiet and docile; this seemed to vex her 
more than if I had screamed. No matter how well 
I had prepared my lessons, as soon as I was with her 
my mind became a blank! 

One Saturday morning we were having the geog- 
raphy lesson. Miss N. called me to the wall-map ; she 
had the **bad day" expression in her eyes, and her 
voice seemed to be like a distant growling of thun- 
der! — ** Point to Thorberg," said she. We were learn- 
ing about the canton of Berne. Of course I pointed 
all wrong. Then she said: *'Tell me, at least, whom 
one sends to Thorberg. '^ Whereupon I answered: 
** Masters and mistresses.'^ Tableau! It was a re- 
formatory at that date! Apparently I have always 
had a talent for repartee, and have often made people 
laugh; but under the circumstances I can assure you 
Miss N. did not look upon my answer as funny at 
all. . . . Eaging, scarlet in the face, her eyes starting 
from her head, she seized me by my hair. Not satis- 
fied with pulling the curls on my forehead, she laid 
hold of the bunch that fell over my shoulders as well. 
Then I had a time of it! Shaken, cuffed, abused! 
Hell, if it exists, could not be worse. I saw sparks; 
I heard the thunder of her hateful voice. Goodness, 
how dreadful she was when thus let loose! In my 
heart of Jiearts I placed Iter alongside my step-mother, 
and found my schoolmistress as horrible as I found her, 
and God knows I did not love my step-mother. This 
was the refrain Miss N. repeated again and again: 
**Ah! So! That's where you send schoolmistresses, 
is it; thanks; take that, and that; that'll teach you!" 

After the lesson, all the children followed me out 
of the class room. They gathered round me and tried 
to cheer me up. **You did jolly well to send her to 



SUBLIMATIONS 413 

Thorberg ; it serves her right ! Don 't cry ; don 't cry ! ' ' 

The tears I had withheld in her presence now 

coursed down my cheeks, and I began to feel calmer. 

From the very outset, the part played by the sub- 
conscious in her dislike for the mistress is well 
marked in this reminiscence. * ^ The mistress did not 
like me, and I her less/' That is to say, the child's 
dislike was not wholly justified by the character of 
the teacher. The following sentence is even more 
expressive. ^^Why? Such things are difficult to ex- 
plain." Conscious reasons do not suffice, even in 
the subject's mind, to explain the aversion. There 
is something deeper, whose existence she merely 
surmises. But in the course of the narrative she 
answers lier own question, without realising she is 
doing so, and quite incidentally. *^In my heart of 
hearts I placed her alongside my step-mother." 
May we not smile at the monstrous dimensions this 
person is assuming in the child's imagination (see- 
ing sparks, hearing thunder), and at the close re- 
semblance with the ^^ wicked step-mother" of the 
fairy tale? — Let us pass on to the second reminis- 
cence, which forms the counterpart to the first. 

II. Our professor was a dear old fellow. He was a 
man of at least sixty summers. Though a trifle rough 
in manner^ and shaggy rather than attractive, he was 
fundamentaitly good and honest, a man of sterling 
worth. He never showed any favouritism (as is so 
often the case with teachers) to pupils who were 
wealthier or more beautiful than the others. No; as 
I said before, he was just, simple, and honest ; I found 



414 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

this much to my taste. Consequently, I grew very 
fond of Mm from the first. I made good progress 
under him, even in geography, and we became excel- 
lent friends. Besides he was father ^s friend and this 
alone would have been enough to make me like him. 

I was rather prone to take journeys to the moon ; too 
often, indeed, did my thoughts travel in that direction ; 
my old friend was not best pleased at this. I am 
sorry now that I allowed myself to dwell so often in 
the moon instead of paying heed to his lessons! It 
must have tired him to be constantly dragging me 
back to earth; still, he never got angry with me! 

One afternoon, also during the geography lesson — 
but with him how good and wholesome the subject be- 
came! — he was explaining about volcanoes. We had 
our atlases upon our desks and were listening — ^but 
not all of us were listening, for I was away in the 
moon! 

Following the course of a river with my ^ger, I 
saw mountains ; farther on came the sea — ^the wide sea, 
boundless ; how calm the sea must be at this moment ! 

From time to time vague words beat upon my ears, 
far-away phrases; but the ocean with its vessels, how 
much more beautiful! 

Suddenly the voice of the professor broke in defi- 
nitely upon my dreaming: *'Aha! Queenie, IVe caught 
you! What have I just been explaining T' I rose; 
I tried to gather my wits (he had said something about 
Popocatepetl, Orizaba, JoruUa). I answered: **Popo 
. . . caca . . . pepe." — There followed a burst of 
laughter. The whole class (there were forty of us) 
v/as in an uproar of mirth. The professor himself was 
rocking with laughter, and I joined in as well. I can 
see my dear master, scarlet in the face, standing at 



SUBLIMATIONS 415 

his desk swaying from side to side as he laughed, the 
slit of his mouth reaching from ear to ear, his big, 
round head — ^he looked just like one of those funny 
pictures of the moon. He did not scold me; he did 
not punish me. No ; he forgave me at once — and what 
an affectionate memory I have of him even to this 
day! . . . 

The symmetrical contrast of these two reminis- 
cences is very striking; it extends into every detail. 
In the first reminiscence we have the following fact 
finding expression: conscious reasons do not fully 
account for the antipathy; this is followed by a 
reference to the step-mother. In the second, we 
have, first of all, an enumeration of personal traits 
which are not calculated to attract us to the profes- 
sor; this is followed by an allusion to the father. 
**He was father's friend, and this alone would have 
been enough to make me like him." Then the two 
episodes are replicas one of the other in every de- 
tail: each time we have an unsuitable answer to a 
question during a geography lesson — the first time 
the answer is followed by an insensate fit of anger 
on the part of the mistress; the second time the 
answer is followed by the indulgent mirth of the 
professor. 

The condensation of the father into the professor 
is confirmed by the importance Queenie attaches to 
the fact that the master was *^just." This ^^ jus- 
tice'' in the character is intimately linked, for 
Queenie, with the memory of her father. 

We need not dwell any longer upon the analysis 
of these two reminiscences. They were adduced 



416 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

mainly in order to show the type to which Queenie 
belongs ; to indicate her exclusive attachment to the 
father. But the reminiscences do not help us to 
elucidate the trend of the sublimation. 

The points we must bear in mind are the follow- 
ing: the fascination exercised upon the subject by 
imaginative excursions during the professor's les- 
son — the imagination escapes in order to wander 
over the sea, s6 boundless and so calm; the recur- 
rence, twice, of the symbol ^^ being in the moon" 
to describe escape into the fields of imagination, 
and the recurrence of the **moon" symbol in refer- 
ence to the master (the father) : *'He looked just 
like . . . the moon." This juxtaposition illustrates 
in an original manner a fact which the subsequent 
analysis is to verify, and which finds its counter- 
part in many other female subjects (Miriam, for 
instance), namely: the link that exists between fix- 
ation upon the father and sublimation. At the date 
when the incidents occurred, this sublimation found 
vent in fantasy, the germ of a subsequent aesthetic 
sublimation. 

This aesthetic trend, linked as it is to the father, 
is naturally in opposition to the step-mother. The 
opposition is found in a sentence which occurs in 
the first reminiscence: ** First of all, she was ugly, 
slatternly; I loved things that were beautiful." 
Queenie was already aware, in adolescence, of a de- 
sire to develop her artistic talents in imitation of 
her real mother, who was an artist, but whom she 
had never known; the devotion to the memory of 
the real mother is another form of protest against 



SUBLIMATIONS 417 

the step-mother. There may even be detected a 
wish to resemble the father's first wife, to excel the 
second wife, and thus to supplant the latter in her 
father's affections. 

At the date of the analysis, Queenie was forty- 
one years of age. She married very young; she is 
the mother of several children. She complains of 
extreme nervous irritability and accesses of neuras- 
thenia. 

III. In a dream which she has at this date, she sees 
a person who is ''Moliere"; he gives her prescriptions 
which will cure her. The room where he receives her 
is like the one where I have my sittings with her. 

**Moliere" produces the following associations: 
**the arts; nothing is more beautiful." In this 
dream, Moliere appears as the condensation of my- 
self with an idealised ** artist" and probably with 
the father likewise. Moliere is at one and the same 
time the guide, the healer, and the artist. In this 
dream, the subject herself suggests art as a means 
to health. Fixation upon the father has been, in 
conjunction with a refusal (more or less pro- 
nounced) to accept reality, transmuted into an aBS- 
thetic trend which must find expression. 

But Queenie has never been able wholly to satisfy 
her artistic trends. She would have liked to con- 
tinue her studies ; she had had to interrupt them **on 
account of her father." After her marriage, 
conditions were unfavourable to her aesthetic 



418 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

development. She suffers from repression of the 
sublimated tendency (the aesthetic tendency). The 
repressed tendency causes trouble, and endeavours 
to find an outlet in other forms of sublimation. 
During recent years Queenie has, in fact, set her 
course towards religious, charitable, and social 
work, which she endeavours to adapt to her taste 
for beautiful things. She is still groping her way 
along this path of sublimation; the analysis is cast- 
ing a ray of light upon the path ; while the analysis 
is in progress she has a beautiful dream. The 
dream moves her profoundly, and she seems to per- 
ceive in it a solution to her troubles. 

IV. Early spring; a rapturous morning; a morn- 
ing of mornings ; the air is fresh, everything seems to 
smile, to be born again on the earth. 

From my balcony I suddenly behold a procession 
similar to the one which takes place at the Promo- 
tions.^ 

First of all come men walking two abreast ; they are 
wearing dress suits, are bare-headed, and have huge 
white sashes with golden fringes; these were artists 
with long, black locks which they tossed from their 
foreheads in a free-and-easy manner. 

The first (though I had never seen him before in 
real life) I knew to be Jaques Dalcroze; then came 
a brass band, and then a great number of girls dressed 
in white, garlanded with flowers, happy to be alive. 

Near by, buried among trees, was a boarding-school ; 
here, on the steps of a wide entrance, was a concourse 
of young folk, miracles of beauty, surrounded with a 

^ The "Promotions" is the name given to the fete wldch is held 
in Latin Switzerland on the occasion of the distribution of prizes. 



SUBLIMATIONS 419 

glory of snnliglit ; they were about to join the proces- 
sion. 

No sound broke the exquisite silence ; all was peace- 
ful, quiet, restful. 

Suddenly the voices of the artists broke in upon my 
ears. Was it a hymn of praise to the Creator? It 
was stately and pure; the voices were beautiful; how 
they rose directly from the hearts of those men up to 
God! 

Reverently, I listen to the divine music; my eyes 
filled with tears. All at once a mysterious voice pro- 
nounces the word: *' Tolstoy.'* 

The whole dream is permeated with a love of 
beauty which towards the close is changed into re- 
ligious ecstasy. It seems obvious that the first part 
must be a fantasy of virginity ; the associations con- 
firm this supposition. We need not be surprised 
to find such a fantasy in a woman who, as in this 
instance, presents a case of strong fixation upon the 
father. This fixation gives rise to certain regres- 
sive tendencies which are symbolised by the *^ board- 
ing-school" (return to adolescence) and by the 
** Promotions'' (return to childhood). 

The ** artists" play the same part as **Moliere" 
did in dream III. The name ^'Jaques Dalcroze" 
is partly due to a confusion which often occurs at 
Geneva between the ^^Institut de Rythmique Jaques 
Dalcroze" and the ^'Institut Jean Jacques Rous- 
seau" where I received Queenie for treatment. 
The condensation of the ^ ' artist ' ' in the dream with 
myself (as in the case of ^'Moliere" in the previous 
dream) is now confirmed. 



420 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

But the ^* artists" in No. IV, in their formal 
clothes, have something of the priest about them; 
they sing a hymn to ^*the Creator'' and the name 
of Tolstoy seems to break in as an answer to this 
religious aspiration. Tolstoy's thoughts on re- 
ligious and social affairs respond to Queenie's own 
aspirations. The fact that Tolstoy secured this re- 
ligious and social sublimation after passing through 
a stage of aesthetic sublimation, squares with the 
actual process of Queenie's development. *^ Tol- 
stoy" calls up the following associations: *^ Christ; 
justice": which is followed by the very pertinent 
observation: ^^For me, Christ, Tolstoy, and my 
father, are three identicals." We seem to catch 
the ** paternal imago" in the act! It is upon the 
paternal imago that Queenie models the idea in 
which she is about to find health and harmony^ 



CHAPTER TWELVE 

THE SEAKCH FOR A GUIDE 

In the person of the analyst, the subject seeks for 
a guide — if not a saviour ! Sometimes the search is 
an ardent one; in such an event the search may as- 
sume an ^ infantile '^ and *^ erotic" form in relation 
to the analyst; this * infantile" and ^^ erotic'' atti- 
tude is apt to be subconscious. At the close of 
Chapter Four (pp. 113-116) we examined the ^*af- 
fective transference on to the analyst." 

This passionate search for a guide does not al- 
ways progress smoothly, but has crises of hostility 
which are no less passionate than the search. In 
fact, the attitude of the subject towards the analyst 
is usually hostile at the outset. The hostility is in 
most cases subconscious. Gradually, however, the 
subject feels himself to be the victor or the van- 
quished. Eynaldo exhibits a very precise evolution 
of transference; it conforms to type; at first the 
subject disparages the analyst and spares him no 
contumely; then the subject showers upon the an- 
alyst all sorts of feelings, partly filial, partly erotic, 
partly homosexual. As soon as a sympathetic link 
has been established, progress towards cure begins ; 
the moment when the link is finally broken, and 
when the subject becomes once again his own mas- 
ter, is the moment when the cure is completed. One 
of the interesting aspects of Rynaldo's case is the 

421 



422 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

original and picturesque phraseology he uses in 
order to express his feelings towards the analyst. 

In Stella, the idea of the guide develops in the 
direction of sublimation; the subject decides to find 
the guide within herself. In such a case the role 
of the analyst is that of helper, which may for a 
moment be confounded with the role of ideal guide, 
but which quickly becomes dissociated from such a 
conception. In Stella's case the guide takes the 
form of a spiritual principle ; we saw a rudiment of 
this phenomenon in Euth. Such a principle, whether 
it be philosophical or religious, must always be re- 
spected by the analyst, no matter what his personal 
convictions are. All the more must he do so, seeing 
that his own task is thus made easier. 

In every case the analyst must guard against ex- 
ercising any excessive influence either upon the 
feelings or upon the conscience of the subject. He 
must always aim at making the subject master of 
himself. And it is here that suggestion, or rather 
autosuggestive education of the subject, plays an 
obvious part. 

1. Bynaldo 
Change of Analyst. From Hostility to Sympathy. 

This analysis was begun by my pupil and friend 
Monsieur Soteriou (of Athens). When he left 
Switzerland, he passed the case on to me and gave 
me the following information: 

Eynaldo, thirty-nine years old, house painter, 
Italian, fairly cultured, a lover of music and of 



THE SEARCH FOR A GUIDE 423 

opera, came to Soteriou in a condition of severe 
neurasthenia. He slept badly, had a poor appetite, 
no pleasure in living, was haunted by thoughts of 
death. A fixed idea that his *^ flesh is drying up.'' 
The subject lives with his mother, and is obsessed 
with the idea that his mother is going to die. Mas- 
turbation was practised from the age of seven to 
thirty-five years of age. Neurasthenia has been 
present for many years, during the course of which 
the subject has had several acute exacerbations. 

Analysis revealed a strong fixation upon the 
mother, and homosexual tendencies. There is a 
marked need to cling to someone, and hence the 
affective transference on to the analyst was of ex- 
treme importance. Some years ago, Eynaldo was 
troubled by the conviction that he was going mad; 
this seems to have arisen in consequence of an unfor- 
tunate word spoken by a doctor when Eynaldo was 
a child, which reacted upon him by suggestion. The 
fixed idea about ** drying up" had lessened during 
the analysis. This was also linked to impressions 
during childhood. In those days, Eynaldo had 
known a young neuropath whose body ''appeared 
to be ** drying up," and whose malady led his 
parents to lavish their love upon him. 

The main interest for me in the case is the special 
importance of the subject's attitude towards the an- 
alyst. This importance seems to have been en- 
hanced in consequence of the change of analyst: 
there appeared to be a sort of crisis of transference, 
so that the mechanism underlying the phenomenon 
was brought into sharp relief. The acceptance of 



(y 



424 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

the analyst (whicli is in no case effected from the 
outset) was rendered all the more difficult because 
the subject had to be weaned from his previous 
analyst. 

Another item of special interest in Eynaldo's case 
is the symbolical language the subject has created, 
more particularly to express his subconscious atti- 
tude towards the analyst. It is not the dreams 
which give us the greatest help in this analysis, but 
the spontaneous associations which surge up ready- 
made in the mind of the subject at any moment of 
the day, and of which he makes notes. These asso- 
ciations are usually of two words, a noun and an 
adjective, often very peculiar and with no logical 
relationship to one another. Some of the words are 
neologisms. — The associations seemed to the sub- 
ject absolutely fixed as soon as they occurred to 
him; he wrote them down without understanding 
them. We have here a slight dissociation of con- 
sciousness such as is found among automatic 
writers. 

I. (From July 4th to July 13^th). Here are some 
associations showing that the subconscious laughs at 
the method or distrusts it : ^ 

Misleading callisthenics 

hypnotic gastritis 

many too many things at once 

^ In these lists, the author's elucidations are in parenthesis and 
are italicised. In some instances, the original French term is 
appended, in brackets and not italicised. — Translators' Note. 



THE SEARCH FOR A GUIDE 425 

automatic street-sweeper (autosuggestion) [balayeuse] 

improper pruning 

tubal story 

prodigal auscultation 

one-eyed aBstheticism 

wilful buffoonery 

wilful silence 

undeniable drudgery. 

Other associations are directed against myself. 
The subject is beginning to practise a queer method 
of caricature wherein his subconscious will soon ex- 
cel. We shall speedily become accustomed to the 
fact that he is making merry with my nose and with 
my beard ; soon he will laugh at my beard itself, at 
the shape of my nose (rhinosceros, rhinoplasty), at 
my name (Charles, whence Carolina), at my thick 
head of hair (curling-pin), or at my university de- 
grees. Let us begin. 

Merovingian curling-pin [bigoudi]. 

** Merovingian" is reduced by analysis to *^Carlo- 
vingian" (Charles) and to ** Norwegian," to which 
is added the idea of ^'old trash." Later on, the 
subject compares me to Ibsen (Norwegian) ; I am 
for him a barbarian from the north and a ** bearded 
symbolist" (discontent at the departure of Soteriou 
who is a Greek, and is clean shaven). On the other 
hand the *^ curling-pin" is the herald of a series of 
symbols whereby the subject, who seems to be an 
expert in the use of slang, expresses, with the ut- 
most innocence, his belief that I am affected and 



426 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

*' priggish." Here are some further pleasantries at 
my expense. 

Mystical Carolina 

advantageous trueulence (7 appear to him 'Wudd/y 
and fresh** and pleased with my own appearance) 

reduced swelling [boursouflure] 

marked swelling 

sensual prig 

desired object {the two last associations indicate a 
wish for transference, coupled with sexual metaphor) 

artificial sweetness 

decorated gypsy 

symbolical pedant 

disguised borse-shay [berlingot] 

ignorant sorcerer 

certificated carriage 

glutted mercer {associated with sorcerer) 

learned crow 

bored chatterbox [bavarde] 

refreshing sweetmeat 

amused sorceress 

patented sponger 

indiarubber one-eyed man. 

We may note in passing that ** sorceress'' is used 
elsewhere by the subject with reference to his 
mother. This word shows that the whilom subcon- 
scious feelings (fixation upon the mother) are en- 
deavouring to free themselves by transference on 
to the analyst. 

Here is a protest against Soteriou who has earned 
Rynaldo's displeasure by leaving him in other 
hands : 



THE SEARCH FOR A GUIDE 427 

Dethroned usurper. 

** Usurper'' because Soteriou was my pupil and 
had ^' taken my place." In addition, Soteriou 's 
Christian name is Constantine, and Rynaldo was 
comparing him to Constantine, the king of Greece, 
who had recently been dethroned. 

Here are some allusions to the change of analyst, 
a change which had upset the subject: 

Sudden change of tack 

violent reaction, lively horoscope 

complete revolution 

displaced balance-sheet 

memorandum printed again [bordereau]. 

In the following there is manifest a slight growth! 
of confidence in the method and belief in myself: 

Well-meant innovation 

partial innovation 

reinstatement 

professional sacrament {tliis equals: professioifial 

secrets are sacred or inviolable) 
mathematical invention 
sensible nonsense [baliverne] 
margarine and seduction 
transcendental ready-reckoner [bareme] 
recognised sincerity 
recognised system 
paternal indulgence 
fraudulent incliuation (a sign of the transfer ence of 

Jiomosexual tendencies) 



428 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

a marchioness in a wig and a silk dress, benevolent 
sympathy. 

Here I must call attention to a peculiarity which 
becomes more marked as we proceed. The use of 
the initial letter B (the first letter of my name) for 
the associations specially concerning myself (balay- 
euse, bouffonnerie, boursouflure, bigoudi, berlingot, 
bavarde, bilan, bordereau, bareme, baliverne, etc.). 
Soon we shall have proper nouns beginning with B. 
The same game will be played with C, the initial 
letter of my Christian name. The important part 
played by the Christian name (from the first days 
of the second week) demonstrates a step forward on 
the path to intimacy. 

II. (From July 17 to July 22nd.) Rynaldo calls 
me: 

Cormerais Baryton (a play on my initials) 

Carolus Duran 

caloried or coloured Ibsen (c/. *^ Norwegian^* in 

No. I) 
Norwegian cooking 
foundered renovator (because I seemed to him very 

tired and, perhaps even, ill; elsewhere he calls 

me *^ starved restorer^'). 

Psychoanalysis itself comes in for: 

verbal shittification [merdalisation verbale] 

I spit 

tiring colloquy 

internal radiography 

infantile radiography. 



THE SEARCH FOR A GUIDE 429 

Soteriou is still regretted, but he is losing ground 
and is not spared back-handed compliments (he is 
often indicated by the letter S). 

Distinguished sinapism 
evicted sinapism 
evicted concubine 
unknown beardless youth 
dethroned Constantine. 

The relationship between Soteriou and myself is 
expressed in the following manner: 

Unconquered soubrette and Norwegian rhapsody. 
Bergson refuted, Syllabus ordered. 

The associations show repining over the loss of 
Soteriou and protest against myself. In the next 
we have a reversal : 

Socrates flattened out, Rostand let loose. 

''Socrates,'' a Greek, represents Soteriou. The 
word reveals knowledge on the part of the subject 
that homosexual practices had a considerable vogue 
in classical Greece, and lays bare the homosexual 
tendency in Rynaldo to which Soteriou had drawn 
attention before his departure, *' Rostand" calls 
up '^Cyrano de Bergerac" (C. B., my initials) which 
symbolises for Rynaldo extroversion (whence we 
have ^'let loose"), and normal love, which is youth- 
ful, full of poetry, and romance. He is beginning to 
feel that he is entering upon a normal life, upon 



430 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

extroversion; this victory is associated witli my- 
self. To ** Rostand let loose '^ we may add: 

Bergerac returned 

bedevilled rhinoceros (we have already seen that I 
am the rhinoceros). 

Once more the subject harks back to the theme of 
Soteriou^s departure: 

Foreseen separation 
unpunished desertion. 

Transference on to the analyst yields the follow- 
ing: ' 

Tasted comradeship 
Olympian concupiscence 
chosen darling 
strange proposal. 

The fixation, and the sublimation of the homosex- 
ual tendency, are seen passing under the guise of a 
budding friendship for the analyst. 

At this point there appeared a neologism which 
was to crop up frequently in the sequel. It was : 

Bistrome. 

The word seems to be a condensation of *'bis" 
plus **Traum" (dream) with ^^bis'^ plus ^^trop" 
(too much). This signifies: *^The analyst is a 
booze- vendor [bistrot], two analysts of dreams; 
two, that's too much.'' 



THE SEARCH FOR A GUIDE 431 

in. (From July 22nd to July 31st). I have al- 
ready appeared as *^ coloured" (coloured Ibsen, II). 
Rynaldo had noticed that I was sunburnt, whereas 
he was very pale ; this leads to fantasies wherein he 
sets me up as his ideal of the health and manliness 
he himself wishes to possess. These are some of 
his names for me : 

Calcined Merovingian 

reeooked Merovingian 

far-fetched Bergson 

praiseworthy Carlovingian and complex rhinoplasty 

dissolvent calomel making use of feeling. 

He seems in the next three to show a fancy that 
he is winning my favour : 

Shunted machine or imperceptible smile 
extraordinary reconciliation 
obligatory conciliation 

But he still hesitates in his allegiance to me, and 
makes double associations which appear to be al- 
ternatives. 

Ridiculous old geeser or intellectual stenography (c/. 

internal raidograpJiy, II) 
indelible sincerity, or commotion like a nut-cracker. 

References to the upset caused by the change of 
analyst still appear: 

Duplicated cortege or unforeseen secretion. 



432 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

But Soteriou is now withdrawing into the back- 
ground : 

Eetreating apprentice 

perplexed Victor Hugo and finished Isadora Duncan. 

'^Perplexed Victor Hugo" (another bearded man 
of the Ibsen tribe) is myself; this is associated with 
** complex rhinoplasty." *^ Isadora Duncan," a 
symbol of Greek dancing, is Soteriou. 

Hope of recovery now begins to come definitely 
,to the fore : 

Peculiar penitent's robe, and proven infantilism 
retarded morality and resolution in the near future 
retarded rudder and redemption in the near future. 

**The penitent's robe" is introversion; ** retarded 
morality" is the development of the moral life which 
has been held in check by infantile fixations. The 
subject is realising his condition and hopes soon to 
rise above it and free himself. His optimism in this 
respect increases concomitantly with his affective 
reconciliation to myself. But Eynaldo has not yet 
quite overcome me. He has already called me 
*^ priggish," a *^prig," and an * insensitive virtuous 
man." Now he says I am an 

unviolated Cunigunde. 

rV. (From July 31st to August 6th). This week 
proves to be the turning-point. We are faced with 
resurrection fantasies. 



THE SEARCH FOR A GUIDE 433 

The sky would be 

baby linen 

Lazarus resurrected from the dead. 

This resurrection does in truth take place at the 
very moment when the affective bond with me is 
established. But even now some of the old jokes at 
my expense crop up : 

Hairy [velu] cargo and bloated rhinoceros. 

But he adds : 

Creative intuition {a condensation of ''intuition" 
and of ''cr&ative evolution' '; a reminiscence of 
Bergson who has already served as a symbol of 
myself, II) 

Bazaartherapy divulged, rational history developed 
and authentic (this is the analysis) 

Machiavellian inspiration 

divine intervention 

Bourget the redeemer 

triumphant ready-reckoner 

cure obtained thanks to the coefficient Nilakantha. 

*'Nilakantha," the father of Lakme, is an **old 
J5rahman.'' This calls up by association: **man of 
feronze," ^* turned by the sun" — again we have in 
these associations, references to myself (cf. III). 

Transference finds expression in the following 
symbols : 

Carolina longed for and obtained {''Ca/rolina longed 
for'' [voukie] is associated with ''hairy cargo" 
[cargaison velu]) 



434 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

refreshing household, refreshment obtained, miti- 
gated bending 
complicity unexpected and renovating 
respectful gallantry foreseen 
close collaboration. 

New fantasies concerning the change of analyst 
now arise: 

Particoloured innovator 
transient and local interruption 
gyrating psychotherapy and mezzanine. 

Soteriou continues his retreat: 

Prolonged Turkish bath 

ungummed minister 

secondary uselessness or direct contact {i.e., useless- 

ness of the '^minister'* and the ^'secand/' and 

direct contact with myself). 

More and more does Eynaldo feel he is freeing 
himself from the maternal complex, from exclusive 
introversion, from infantilism; that he is on the 
way to acquire virility : 

Delicate maj oration and nebulous infantilism {the 
'^maj oration'* is the coming of age, and symbolises 
the attaiivment of virility), 

definitely masculine 

rejected embryo 

lapsed incest 

evicted sorceress {the mother) 

burned sarcophagus or wonderful rumour 



THE SEARCH FOR A GUIDE 436 

magisterial evolution 

light on the horizon, wonderful wild rose 

decidedly more light or rational induction. 

V. (From August 7th to August 18th). Prog- 
ress continues: 

Disconcerting mneme or Rhine gold found again. 

The ** mneme" is the long-forgotten incident 
which lay buried in the subconscious. With the 
** Rhine gold'' the subject has spontaneously dis- 
covered the collective symbol, a saga, to which we 
have previously drawn attention : the precious thing 
which has been buried but is found once again. 

The morbid state is thus defined: 

Cerebral derangement armed with all the necessary 
implements for repair. 

Now psychoanalysis is described as : 

Inventoried dustbin or German system 
regenerative instinct or distinguished machinery. 

Soteriou puts in an appearance : 

Saute-ruisseau [leaper over a stream] condemned. 

*^Saute-ruisseau" is but a slightly disguised par- 
ody of the name Soteriou and means that Soteriou 
has crossed the sea. To this is added a hint of dis- 
paragement. 



436 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

A few resentful jibes at myself still crop up : 

Destitute Balzae 
foundered Bajazet. 

But the acceptation of myself, which is sometimes 
quite enthusiastic, continues to appear: 

Nocturnal power or Merovingian prop 
light calorigene or public demonstration. 

''Calorigene" is a condensation of ^^Carlovin- 
gian'' and of ** colore" [translated ^* coloured"] 
and ** calorie" [translated ^^caloried"]. 

Eynaldo continues to show his confidence that he 
is improving : 

masculine diversion or retroversion improbable 

bazaar sorceressi 

system adopted or profound renovation. 

VI. (From August 21st to August 26th). Ey- 
naldo is still describing the interconnection of the 
two analysts in the form of an 

ill-fitting hinge. 

He is still at times in a reproachful mood towards 
me. Especially, he is annoyed with me for making 
him note down his dreams and his associations : 

infected with gallophobia or prescribed manuscript. 



THE SEARCH FOR A GUIDE 437 

But compliments preponderate: 

inventive Carolina or distinct mneme 
illustrated Bergerac or coincident system 
voluptuous caress or imminent redemption 
Calomel Vishnu (a fresh reminiscence of the father 

of Lukme) or prophetic shaving 
perfect semolina or pacified rhinoceros 
oleagenous substance or satisfied rhinoceros 
mollified prig or venerable substance 
strange intervention or radically cured 
perfect semolina or profound renovation. 

Since the beginning of the analysis, Eynaldo has 
frequently had a dream in which he sees himself 
painting in a flat in course of decoration. In this 
dream, everything had invariably gone amiss. Now 
the dream recurred in a way that indicated progress, 
for the work in the flat was going better : 

VII. We are painting the woodwork of the draw- 
ing-room, painting it pink; there is not enough paint, 
so I mix some more; since I am not quite sure that 
I have got the right shade, I fetch an old workman 
who was a friend of my father. The pink I have 
mixed is not exactly like the first ; it depends how one 
looks at it. ... I forgot to say at the beginning of the 
dream: I was delighted to find that I was painting 
quite easily, without being bothered as I had been 
before. 

The colour *^pink" [in French ''rose"] calls up 
*'to see life through rose-coloured spectacles," this 
referring to the cure of the neurasthenia. Other 



438 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

allusions point to the search for the *^ father" (a 
friend of my father), that is to say, the search for 
virility. There is something still lacking to this 
virility, and that is why the paint he mixes in the 
dream is rather pale. 
^^Pink*' reappears in the following dream. 

VIII. (Night of August 31 to September 1st) : 

To my right there was an enormous glass fuU of 
pomegranate syrup, but I had made it too watery and 
could not drink it. I heard the clock strike noon at 
St. Pierre, so I had to leave. 

The over-diluted pink beverage, a symbol of in- 
complete virility and of unfinished cure, also sym- 
bolises the imperfections of the transference. 
Shortly before, in fact, I had been sitting with Ey- 
naldo in a restaurant. He had ordered a glass of 
vermouth which I had looked at somewhat censori- 
ously. My order was a glass of pomegranate syrup, 
which seemed to Eynaldo rather an unmanly drink, 
so that it had become associated in his mind with 
images of **priggishness," **affectedness,'' ** fop- 
pishness," etc. He had even chaffed me a little 
for the immense quantity of water I added, which 
made the colour of the drink very pale. That eve- 
ning I had had to leave him to keep an appointment. 
The clock striking at St. Pierre is the customary 
signal for the close of our sittings. It is the sign 
of parting. 

The idea of the incompleteness of the transfer- 
ence is condensed with that of the incompleteness of 



THE SEARCH FOR A GUIDE 439 

the cure, and it is true that the cure follows closely 
in the footsteps of the transference. 

In the same dream there is a museum, which is 
also a booth at a fair, where there is a merry-go- 
round which is being dismantled and which is to be 
carted away. These images are suggested by the 
same reminiscence as that from which the pome- 
granate syrup comes. "When we were in the res- 
taurant, a fair was in progress in the adjoining 
square and there were some merry-go-rounds. In 
them we have symbols of old trash which must be 
cleared away. More especially, the merry-go-round, 
turning on its own axis, is a symbol of autoerotism 
and introversion, whereas the boy scouts, who now 
appear on the scene, denote virility : 

"We think that the lorry {wliicJi is io carry awm/ 
ihe merry-go-round) will find it difficult to start; there 
is a movement ; men dressed as boy scouts appear. Is 
the cortege ready? Not yet. 

The ^^ start'' is imminent, but the moment is not 
yet quite come. 

IX. (The same week from August 28th to Sep- 
tember 3rd). The associations are coloured by the 
pomegranate syrup: 

sugary nonsense or special pruning 
certain deduction or aperitive system 

After the ** aperitives ' ' (the pomegranate and the 
vermouth) I had looked at my watch, had hesitated 



440 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

for a moment while thinking of the time of my tram 
and the distance from the station, and I had post- 
poned my departure for a few minutes. Hence, 
doubtless, the following association: 

vacillating Boudouresqueness or station close at 
hand. 

These automatic associations, faithfully recorded, 
were tending to assume an exaggerated develop- 
ment. To encourage such a development would 
have involved the risk of switching the subject 
towards automatism and a duplication of conscious- 
ness. Henceforward, therefore, I did my utmost to 
secure more conscious associations to the items of 
Rynaldo's dreams, and I begged him to give up 
recording his automatic associations, notwithstand- 
ing the great theoretical interest of this original 
idiom. Henceforward we confined ourselves to the 
analysis of the dreams. 

September. 

X. I am talking with the son of the master to whom 
I was apprenticed. I say to him: *'If only you had 
known Flournoy, the psychologist! You remember 
what an awful ass I was before I was re-edu- 
cated! ..." 

**The master to whom he was apprenticed" ap- 
pears in a whole series of dreams, and symbolises 
the ^^father." The *^son'' is Eynaldo himself, espe- 
cially when he was a youth. ^^ Flournoy the psy- 



THE SEARCH FOR A GUIDE 441 

chologisf is myself. In this dream Rynaldo con- 
verses with his sometime self, and is sorry he did 
not make my acquaintance earlier. Now he is ^* re- 
educated.'' 

The analyst stiH continues to play the leading 
role : 

XI. An excursion in the funicular railway. . . . 
I get into the train at a place where there seems to be 
a branch line; the dream apparently implied that it 
was at Corsier, but I had an impression of being at 
Saconnex or at Chambesy. The train is running down 
a steep hill; I think of the dangers should it get out 
of hand ; at the same time I note how calmly and easily 
the driver manages his machine. 

** Corsier" calls up ** opposite Coppet." The 
dream takes place at the date when I removed from 
Saconnex d'Arve to Coppet. I stayed at Coppet 
the whole of that autumn; Eynaldo knew that this 
would interfere with our acquaintance and neces- 
sitate a longer interval between the sittings. He 
shows his uneasiness; at the same time he has con- 
fidence in the ** driver," who symbolises myself. 

XII. A youngish woman (she seems to be a singer 
at a cafe chantant) who offers to sell me a bicycle for 
80 francs. She tells me that an inner tube larger 
than the pneumatic tire (or the wheel?) is given 
away free with the purchase. But some difficulty or 
other with the telephone brings the affair to naught. 
It seemed as if the bicycles were black-enamelled; she 
had several for sale. 



442 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

Henceforth I become less prominent. Eynaldo has 
acquired extroversion, he is beginning to face the 
problems of life. The dream shows a desire for a 
normal and healthy love. The ^* difficulty . . . with 
the telephone'' is an allusion to a ** telephonist" 
with whom Eynaldo had once had a love affair 
** which had been spoiled by a misunderstanding." 
The young lady had * laughed at his odd sort of 
phiz," and this had increased his neurasthenia (the 
incident occurred fourteen years ago) . The ^ * singer 
at a cafe chantant" who has ** several bicycles to 
sell' symbolises a woman of shady character. The 
term ^* black enamelled" arouses the following asso- 
ciations: ^* things coming from Germany; excess of 
regulation, too cold; French letter" — all of them 
symbolising sexuality without love. This does not 
satisfy the subject, who aspires to something more 
complete and more wholesome. 

October. 

XIII. (The following dreams are some among 
many which occurred during the same night). 

(1) I am working for my godfather, and at the 
same time for my factory. An old workmate, with 
whom I had quarrelled comes in search of work. I am 
surprised at his friendliness. . . . 

(2) Two pretty girls arrive on a little sledge; are 
they gliding over the water or over the land? The 
sledge reminds me of Lohengrin's swan, and perhaps 
of the Holy Grail as well. 

(3) A great patriotic demonstration is to take place 



THE SEARCH FOR A GUIDE 443 

in Bel- Air Square. Some young socialists whistle and 
hoot ; when they are separated from the crowd, I notice 
that the patriots are few in numher. 



The two women of the second episode often ap- 
pear in the dreams of this period; they alternate 
with the two analysts, and tend to replace them. 
The affect, having detached itself from infantile fix- 
ations, and having been transferred on to the an- 
alysts, must once again free itself — from the new 
fixation. But, as we have seen, Eynaldo is not con- 
tent to gratify his brute instinct ; he aspires to sub- 
limation : whence the * ^ Holy Grail. ' ' By association 
we get ^Hhe Sacred Heart in course of construc- 
tion." *^ Lohengrin" (a reminiscence of Eynaldo 's 
fifteenth year) is a revival of youth. 

In the first episode, the ** godfather" is a substi- 
tute for the ^ ^father"; other associations lead to **a 
blear-eyed goldfinch"; '*We once had a goldfinch 
which pined away after my father's death." The 
** workmate with whom he had quarrelled" sym- 
bolises the virility Eynaldo had lost, but which he 
has found again. 

The ^'patriots" in the third episode call up out- 
worn ideas (cf. museum, merry-go-round, dream 
VIII) and the ** young socialists" symbolise young 
and fresh ideas concerning the sound health he has 
reacquired (they also denote a progress in the direc- 
tion of the social instinct). 

XIV. Eynaldo dreams of a place ** which recalls 
the workyard where he was apprenticed, and which 
is situated opposite the church of the Sacred Heart 



444 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

where lie made his first communion.'' Another 
reference to his reconquered virility and to his de- 
sire for sublimation. In the same dream there is 
something about a fire — a symbol which, for 
Eynaldo, represents his neuropathic condition. 
But 

I see the fire-engines coming to extinguish the flames, 
they come from Carouge. . . . They are all motor fire- 
engines; they come with the utmost speed, and give 
the impression of being well made and powerful. 

I live in the direction of Carouge (this is con- 
nected with the series of proper names beginning 
with C). The ^* motor'' fire-engines [pompes auto- 
mobiles] symbolise autosuggestion. Confidence in 
me remains unshaken, but the subject adds to this a 
confidence in himself; he is cutting loose from me 
as fast as he feels he can do without me. 

That same night Eynaldo dreams of ^^two clerks 
who have come from the town hall"; these are the 
two analysts, but henceforward they are equals, and 
are no longer referred to with the passionate epi- 
thets which qualified them of yore. 

XV. The ''start" which we thought imminent, 
though somewhat difficult (VIII), now takes place. 
The dreams abound in daring deeds, unconstrained- 
ness, which had not been present before. 

Rue de Carouge, I'm in front of a house. I am 
undecided; shall I go away in a motor car, for it is 



THE SEARCH FOR A GUIDE 445 

muddy; shall I break my neck? Indecision. Finally, 
Ithmki'^Welllllsee.'' 



And thereupon — he goes! 

He dreams of me as *^ Charles' circus," but he is 
surprised to find how small the circus is. Another 
dream is about a machine (resembling a projector 
at Charles' circus) which ** attunes and concludes 
the link between the interior and the exterior, ' ' that 
is to say, which helps the introvert to ^'project" 
himself into life. 

XVI. . . . An empty flat. I try some of the fit- 
ments. I unhook something from the wall — ^I don't 
know what it is. Someone comes in. Who is it ? One 
of the bosses? At any rate is it an imposing, sedate, 
and kindly person. To my right there is an open cup- 
board. At the top there is a little medallion from 
which a woman's head (living) looks at me. In the 
idea of the dream she is motionless, but I know that 
she is waiting for me to unhook her. 

I appear again in this dream, being now the 
*^ kindly boss,*' but in these traits I am more or less 
condensed with the father. The ^^ cupboard" had 
appeared in earlier associations, but it was closed 
and it needed to be opened. It had called up ^Hhe 
cupboard where the treasure is," so that Rynaldo 
seems to have hit upon a motif of saga. The 
woman who is to be ^^ unhooked" is likewise the 
motif of a saga, that of Andromeda rescued by Per- 
seus. The two motifs, that of the treasure and that 
of Andromeda, mean the same thing. The question 



446 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

at issue is the '^unliookiiig" (the setting free) of 
the vital energy which has been pent up by the in- 
fantile fixations. 

November. 

XVII. The cure is close at hand. There is now 
a wealth of such symbols as ^^ Place Neuve/' ** Cy- 
rano," **Tannhauser'' (associated with *' Lohen- 
grin/' XIII). There is question of a ** wonderful 
clock. ' ' 

Both wheels of my bicycle have been mended, but 
who will put them together again or wind them up 
[remonter] ? — for I know that the time for the start 
is at hand. 

Eynaldo's sexual dreams are normal; they have 
no tinge of homosexuality or of autoerotism. For 
example : 

A machine which goes down and up, like a lift; it 
seemed to me to stop and distribute its contents into 
some sort of round aperture. 

In the following dream the subject describes the 
results of the analysis and his own feelings about it. 

XVIII. In the cathedral of St. Pierre an employer 
is talking to some hands he thinks of engaging; he 
converses with a young man — suddenly they go down 
the stairway — wide and gloomy — I follow them carry- 
ing a large stone ; I am rather afraid of falling, for the 



THE SEARCH FOR A GUIDE 447 

steps seem to me to vary in height ; but I go down very 
quickly. When I reach the first floor, I throw my 
stone out of the window ; it does not fall where I had 
expected ; but I explain to two young fellows who are 
looking at me that it is better the stone should have 
fallen just as it did. 

In this dream we meet again the two analysts 
(the ** employer'' and the **young man'') conversing 
as equals. The cathedral of St. Pierre, close to the 
Jean Jacques Rousseau Institute where Bynaldo 
comes to consult me, has already served to symbolise 
the place where the analyses are carried on. (The 
reader will remember that the clock striking at St. 
Pierre was the signal that our interviews must close.) 
Apropos of this dream, Rynaldo said to me: ^*The 
re-education has not been precisely what I expected, 
but I think it is better as it is." The stone which 
he throws out of the window is ^*the burden of which 
he is ridding himself." 

XIX. Next week he dreams of **a young lady of 
the Coope" who tells him that **the goods you 
ordered are ready." ^* Coope" is short for '^coop- 
erative grocery"; Rynaldo is very careful to write 
it thus abridged. There is a condensation of * ' Cop- 
pet" (the name of the place where I was then liv- 
ing) with ** cooperation." No longer is the method 
regarded by the subject as a complete abandonment 
of himself into my hands ; it is a cooperation between 
Rynaldo and myself. The loosening of the bonds 
of the transference is still going on. Just now we 
had a dream in which the two analysts were sym- 



448 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

bolised by ^*an employer and a young man." At 
length Rynaldo dreams of ^^an ex-employer and of 
his pupil." This signifies that for him I am now 
merely a whilom master, and that he has become his 
own master. In another dream he expresses him- 
self yet more categorically : 

They had given me an assistant, but he was not a 
craftsman, and it was quite understood that I alone 
was the craftsman. I fancy that the foreman had 
asked me about this or had drawn my attention to 
the fact. 

I have frequently urged Rynaldo to become ac- 
customed to depend upon himself. In one of his 
latest dreams he dreamed that he had been ^^re- 
established," had been *^ re-built upon himself." 
He has also dreamed that he is *^ working at some- 
thing quite new," whereas formerly he always 
dreamed about *^ repairs." 

We have been watching the rise and the fall of a 
transference. The stages of this transference were 
parallel to those of the subject's progress. He re- 
garded himself as cured as soon as the tie of the 
transference had been loosened, and as soon as he 
felt himself to have become his own master. 

2, Stella 

Sublimation of the Idea of the Guide. 

From childhood onwards, the circumstances of 
Stella's life have tended to cultivate introversion. 



THE SEARCH FOR A GUIDE 449 

When she was born, her father was fifty-six, and 
her mother twenty years yonnger. The mother died 
when the little girl was only a few months old. 
From the time of birth there was manifest a state 
of powerlessness which was wrongly diagnosed as 
*' infantile paralysis." Later, the diagnosis was 
disputed, and was eventually recognised to have been 
erroneous. The condition improved during child- 
hood, so that Stella became able to walk. When 
she was fifteen, she had a fall, followed by teno- 
synovitis, and six months' confinement to bed. 
Henceforward, her walking powers were greatly im- 
paired, so that she could not even get about the room 
without sticks, and could only leave the house in a 
wheel-chair or in a carriage. 

Up to the age of eight, Stella was very fond of 
her father, who was extremely kind to her, and used 
to carry her about and to play with her. Then 
there came a change in him. He became liable to 
fits of temper which ** overwhelmed'' the child; but, 
more than all, she suffered from his coldness and 
indifference towards herself. Unaware of the true 
causes of this coldness, she fancied that his feelings 
had changed, that he was dissatisfied with her. Ee- 
pelled by her father and lacking a mother, she was 
thrust back upon herself. Entrenching herself in 
her morbid state, she used it as a house of refuge; 
thus ** enjoying it," she accentuated it without real- 
ising what she was doing. But in this refuge she 
felt derelict. She was on the look-out for the 
^ ^father" or the ^* guide" she needed. The whole 
of her analysis is dominated by this search for the 



450 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

guide. At the date of the analysis she was forty- 
five. All her inner life had been lonely; her feel- 
ings had turned towards philosophical, moral, and 
religious ends. 

The first time Stella left her bed after she had 
been bedridden for six months at the age of fifteen, 
she made a point of going to see her father, think- 
ing he would be delighted. Her father did not seem 
to notice that anything had happened. This was a 
great shock to her, a terrible disillusionment. *^It 
deprived me of all energy to do anything that might 
make me better. '^ The incident summarises all the 
disappointment of her filial affection, all the conse- 
quent withdrawal into herself, all her resignation to 
illness — which was accepted, even gladly, because it 
facilitated the withdrawal into the self. The re- 
treat from the father was likewise a retreat from 
the world. The two movements were identical, and 
Stella felt towards the world, towards human beings 
in general, precisely what she felt towards her 
father. *^ Human beings have been a disappoint- 
ment to me." She added: ^^ Again and again I 
thought I had found a guide. Always I was mis- 
taken. I have come to think that we have to guide 
ourselves." It is easy to understand what psychic 
elements were superadded to the physical condition 
so as to aggravate the latter. It was not diiBficult, 
therefore, for analysis and suggestion to bring about 
an improvement in the bodily state, but at this stage 
something occurred which arrested progress and 
even led to a relapse. Her brother died. This was 



THE SEARCH FOR A GUIDE 451 

a great grief, for Stella looked upon lier brother as 
a sort of father. She had transferred on to him 
her strongest feelings. To some extent, he had be- 
come for her the guide she needed, and she was cer- 
tainly fonder of him than of anyone else in the 
world. His death was as great a shock as had been 
thirty years earlier her realisation that her father 
was indifferent to her. The two things underwent 
condensation in her mind, and the old feeling of 
** what's the use?" recurred. Once again she was 
"deprived of all energy to do anything that might 
make her better." But it is not my aim here to 
dwell upon the patient's bodily state. The details 
concerning it have only been given because of the 
relationships between the bodily state and the idea 
of the *' guide." On two occasions the loss of the 
guide brought about the same flight from the world, 
the same isolation, for which the illness furnished a 
pretext. 

The first dream to be analysed was the outcome 
of this twofold preoccupation with the ** guide" and 
the "disappointment." 

I. Someone — a man — gives Stella a white wicker 
basket to hold. It is the sort of basket that bakers 
use, covered with fine, clean linen. As soon as she has 
the basket in her hand, there is a stir beneath the 
linen. cover, and a number of wasps fly out, though 
she had believed that there was bread in the basket. 
In a fright, she hands it back. The man who gave it 
to her was sitting as driver upon the front seat of a 
cart. The wasps buzzed, but not one of them stun^ 
her. 



452 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

The oblong *^ basket'' calls up as association tbe 
shape of a *^ cradle." This is also the shape of the 
ovary, a shape which, as we know, not infrequently 
appears in dreams.^ We discern here a condensa- 
tion of a number of primary wishes which have re- 
mained unfulfilled: more particularly, there is a 
duplex maternal craving, that to have a mother and 
that to he a mother. The ** white linen" and the 
** bread" call up **pure" and ^Hrue." But disil- 
lusionment comes. The associations to ^^ wasps" 
are ^^ poison," * ^ treachery, " ^^ cruelty," *' hatred." 
Following upon the illusions of purity comes the 
discovery of the repulsive aspect of passion. 
*^ Driver" calls up ** guide." The guide also ap- 
pears here as a man who might be loved. But the 
idea of the guide is refused in this form. The sub- 
ject has repelled every kind of sexual temptation. 
This, manifestly, is the meaning of the last symbol : 
*^not one of them stung her." 

In the dream which followed our first sitting we 
find the joint preoccupations with the ^^guide" and 
the ^ treatment." 

II. I was living in a country house. I was on the 
road near the house. ... I wanted to go into the 
town, this town was M. (the subject's native city), to 
attend a lecture upon local history. I had no other 
means of going there but the little wheel-chair in 
which I get about. / could have found someone to 
take me there, hut there was no one to hring me hack; 
and the return would have to be made after dark. Yet 

^ Cf . Jeanne, dream YIII. 



THE SEARCH FOR A GUIDE 453 

it was absolutely essential that I should ^o. I was 
much disturbed about it, and unaided I managed to 
make my way up a steep hill to the shed where my 
wheel-chair was, although I knew that I should not 
be able to get down again. But I was afraid of noth- 
ing, for I absolutely must go to the lecture, even though 
I had to go alone pushing my own chair along. All 
the time there was someone near me; I could hear the 
voice, but I did not know who it was. But this person 
could not come with me, he could merely advise me. 
He tried to persuade me not to go to the lecture ; or at 
least, if I did go, to spend the night in the town. At 
the same time he told me that, after the lecture, there 
would be another lecture in the same hall, on psy- 
chology this time; and he said that the two lectures 
would last an hour and a half in all. This made me 
feel more than ever how essential it was for me to go. 
I awoke in the midst of my preparations for departure. 

*'An hour and a half had been the duration of 
onr first sitting, of v^hich, as already said, the fore- 
going dream was a sequel. The sitting had been 
psychoanalytical, followed by suggestion. The re- 
turn to the native city symbolises the way in which 
the analysis had been delving into reminiscences of 
childhood and into the subject's earliest ego. The 
lecture on local history is psychoanalysis; the lec- 
ture on psychology is suggestion. The associations, 
which I shall not record, made these points perfectly 
clear. Already, however, the question of the 
** guide'* comes to the front. '^She could be taken 
to the town, but would have to come back alone.'' 
I shall, in fact, be able to guide her for a time, but 



4^54 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

then I shall leave her to herself once more, and the 
prospect of this makes her nervous. In addition, 
there is another guide, a rival of mine. He is not 
an adequate guide, for he can only give advice, and 
cannot accompany the subject. He is a person *'in 
grey," and he calls up in association one of An- 
dreieff 's plays. The Life of Man. In this play there 
is a mute, ^'someone in grey,'' who carries a candle 
of which the flame is born, grows, and dies simul- 
taneously with the birth, growth, and death of 
*^man," thus marking out all the stages of his life. 
A person *4n grey," associated with a **mute"; a 
guide who can *^give advice but cannot act as com- 
panion" — here we have indications that we are con- 
cerned with someone who is dead,^ but whose influ- 
ence on Stella's mind persists. We readily recog- 
nise the paternal imago. On the other hand, this 
person in the dream reminds the subject of the driver 
in dream I, the driver who symbolised * * man beloved 
and a guide." The symbol, therefore, is compli- 
cated. It represents the guide, in incarnations in 
which the subject has given up searching for the 
guide ; and yet she has not completely given up the 
search in these incarnations, for the phantom guide 
is still trying to keep her at home and to prevent 
her from coming to see me. 

In order that the analysis may be accepted, the 
search for a guide, which is still fundamentally di- 
rected towards the paternal imago, must be trans- 
ferred on to the analyst. This mechanism is plainly 

^ As to the symbolisation of the dead by persons clad in grey 
who are mute, cf . Regis et Hesnard, op. cit., p. 171# 



THE SEARCH FOR A GUIDE 455 

manifest in the following dream, in wMch there ap- 
pears the figure of another analyst who has been 
interested in Stella's case a few years earlier: 

III. ... I find myself face to face with X [the 
analyst previously mentioned] , so suddenly that for a 
moment I jostle him; but directly afterwards I step 
backwards, saying: ^'Yerzeihen Sie, Doktor" [Excuse 
me, Doctor] . He looks at me coldly, and says : "Bitte, 
genieren Sie sich gar nicht" [Not at all]. ... I want 
to retire to my room because this meeting distresses - 
me, but something hinders me, and I circle round him 
without being able to get any farther. At length I 
succeed. I go slowly, very slowly, towards my room. 
I open the door and close it behind me very slowly, 
always hoping that he will call me back. But he 
merely says in a bored tone : ' 'Diese Umstandlichkeit ! '' 
[What a fuss!] When I am in my room, I am filled 
with despair. I say to myself: '*If only he had been 
put out, there might still have been some hope of a 
reconciliation ; but if there is nothing but indifference 
and boredom, all is over!'' ... 

Her feeling at the close is the same that she had 
had when fifteen years old in relation to her father's 
indifference. Then, too, Stella wonld have pre- 
ferred to see her father put out. We see signs of 
the condensation of the father with the analyst, and 
of transference on to the analyst. But the kinship 
is closer. The analyst, like the father, is an inade- 
quate guide, and will ultimately have to be re- 
nounced. We have here the same apprehension as 
that disclosed in dream II by the idea that she would 



456 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

have to *^come back alone." To round off the his- 
tory, I should add that X. and Stella had quite 
ceased to see one another, to Stella's great regret. 
But the fundamental idea persists, that an analyst 
is not a guide who can be permanently depended on, 
and that the guide must be sought elsewhere. 

In various dreams there appeared under diverse 
forms the image of three psychotherapeutists on 
whom, successively, Stella had projected her ideal 
of the guide. At the time when she consulted me, 
there had been a change in her state of mind; her 
wish was, not so much that I should act as her guide, 
as that I should help her to discover the guide in 
herself. 

IV. In one of the dreams of this series, three 
doctors appear on the scene, as if in consultation, 
introducing themselves by their titles (the three 
psychotherapeutists). They are followed by a 
young woman who gives a silent greeting. The as- 
sociation to this *^ young woman" is ** myself, that 
which appears in me." In Stella's eyes, the young 
woman represents a possibility of sublimation re- 
lated to the analysis now in progress. I do not make 
my entry on the stage as a fourth therapeutist; the 
fourth comer is Stella herself, for she has decided 
to seek the guide within herself. She has thought 
over my theory of autosuggestion, and has found 
therein the expression of this real need. 

V. In another dream, whose symbolism is not 
altogether complimentary to us psychoanalysts and 



THE SEARCH FOR A GUIDE 457 

persons of a like category, the three previous courses 
of treatment are symbolised by three water-closets, 
which have been provided for the house, but which 
cannot be used. Two of them are supplied with 
''every possible convenience," but ''they will not 
work because their system is too complicated." 
The third is rather of a rustic character, but it can 
only be reached by passing through dirty passages. 
In the last instance, the reference is a painful one. 
Stella had a very deep feeling for the third psycho- 
therapeutist, but renounced it because she was 
afraid it had sexual implications. 

The analysis now in progress is symbolised by a 
fourth water-closet. It is a long way from the 
house, and one has to go there alone by a difficult 
road. Here we may discern once more the call the 
subject is making, and which I am encouraging, upon 
her own energies. 

The use of the fantastic symbol of the water- 
closet may be explained in relation to the current 
term "to pour oneself out," in the sense of "saying 
everything that is in one's mind." It is also related 
to a kindred expression in scientific terminology, for, 
in the first days of psychoanalysis it was spoken of 
by Breuer as the cathartic "method — "cathartic" be- 
ing a medical synonym for "purgative." The sub- 
ject was familiar with the expression "the cathartic 
method." 

VI. We now reach a more adequate and more 
comely symbol of the same phenomenon. "We derive 
it from the analysis of a drawing which Stella made 
when in a reverie. The drawing represented a 



458 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

golden cross fumislied with golden balls. At tlie 
centre of the cross was the letter S. At the ends 
of the arms were the letters T. and R. respectively. 
On the top was the letter A. The subject's Chris- 
tian name begins with S.; R. means religion; T., 
work (travail) ; A., love (amour). But the following 
associations show that the three letters E., T., and 
A., really symbolise the three psychotherapeutists. 
The first of these, she says, guided her towards re- 
ligion. The second advised her to undertake some 
specific worh, to have an active aim in life. The 
third, the central figure in the incident mentioned 
above, was an enthusiast and an artist, and said that 
no one had loved her enough to cure her. Stella 
added: ^*I think now that one has to be one's own 
guide. Each must carry his own burden." 

This cross, drawn in a reverie, reminds her of a 
similar cross seen in a dream. In the dream, a 
golden ball fixed on the top of the cross (in place 
of the letter A.) fell down, and she thinks of a fall 
into a bottomless abyss. The ball likewise reminds 
her of ^'the world.'' Thus the fall of this *^balP' 
is the final renunciation of *4ove" and of the 
** world." The ball vanishes; the cross remains. 
This signifies the contrast between the spiritual life 
and the world. At the centre of the cross she sees 
herself (S). She is determined to find the guide in 
herself, and yet it must be a guide who transcends 
her. She consciously designates him as the Christ; 
not the Christ of dogma, but the living Christ, the 
symbol of universal love. 

The '^religion" which she had been advised by the 



THE SEARCH FOR A GUIDE 459 

first psychoanalyst to espouse had been too much a 
matter of externals. The ^* guide'' whom she seeks 
is of a more mystical character. So far, then, the 
dream and the reverie both express ideas of which 
she is conscious ; but, more intimately, they express, 
with a strange clarity of symbolism, the kinship of 
this mystical guide with the earlier guides whom he 
is to replace. We have, throughout, the same need, 
originally directed towards the father, subsequently 
passing by derivation towards various persons, and 
finally undergoing sublimation as a spiritual ideal.^ 
VII. This spiritual orientation is not yet radical, 
but wishes to become so. In a reverie, Stella wrote 
almost unconsciously the words : 

The matter must be settled. The change must be 
restlos, restlos, restlos. 

**Restlos" signifies ** without residue," ** radi- 
cally. ' ' Quite mechanically, too, she drew a sort of 
8, which at first suggested to her mind the German 
name of this numeral, *^acht"; then, by a word- 
play, *^gib Acht," meaning ^'take care," which was 
a catchword of her father's. As in dream II, the 
paternal imago (with its incarnations as aforesaid) 
holds her back, being in opposition to the new ob- 
ject on to which the need for a guide desires to 
undergo transference. But to the paternal advice 

^ At about the same stage, Stella made a drawing of a woman 
on the cross. When she was asked what this sketch signified, she 
answered: "It has always been a puzzle to me why the crucified 
is invariably represented as the Christ, as a man, seeing that 
woman is the eternally crucified!" 



460 STUDIES IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 

^Hake care" is counterposed the earnestly reiter- 
ated ^^restlos, restlos, restlos/' A further associa- 
tion is Goethe's phrase, ^^stirb nnd werde'' (die 
and become). Just as in the dream of the ball 
which fell from the summit of the cross, so here, we 
have the will to *^die to the world'' and to give her- 
self up wholly to a higher life which, however spirit- 
ual it may be, is still to remain active, to harmonise 
within herself *Vork" and sublimated *4ove.'' 

Geneva, 1915-1921. 



GLOSSARY 

Most of the definitions are from the present work, or 
from Baudouin's Suggestion and Autosuggestion. For 
Freudian usage (where this differs from Baudouin's) the 
translators are greatly indebted to Ernest Jones' Papers 
on Psychoanalysis. 

affect. Feeling. The essential constituent of emotion. 

affective association. A synonym for condensation, 
which see. Two ideas tinged with the same affect 
tend to call one another up mutually (evocation). 

anxiety neurosis. Functional nervous disorder in which 
anxiety, i.e., intense morbid dread, is the most con- 
spicuous and persistent symptom. 

association. The linking of images, ideas, or mental 
states so that one tends to call up another. See 
evocation. Classical psychology recognised that 
when two ideas, images, or mental states had oc- 
curred together or in brief succession, the revival 
of one tended to call up the other (association by 
contiguity) ; and that linking also resulted when two 
ideas or images contained like elements (association 
by similarity) ; there is also association by contrast. 
Psychoanalysts stress, in addition to these two 
familiar types, a third type known as affective asso- 
ciation, which see. See also free association. 

autoerotism. Sexual excitement occurring independently 
of actual relations with another individual, and self- 
induced either physically or mentally. (Adjective, 
autoerotic.) 

461 



462 GLOSSARY 

autosuggestion. The subconscious realisation of an idea 
in more or less complete independence of heterosug- 
gestion. 

cathartic method. The purging of the effects of a pent- 
up emotion by bringing it to the surface of conscious- 
ness. This term was applied by Breuer to the tech- 
nique which was subsequently perfected as psycho- 
analysis. 

censor and censorship. In Freudian terminology, a fig- 
urative impersonation to denote the sum of repres- 
sive forces. Also spoken of as "the endopsychic 
censor.'' See repression. For Baudouin's critique 
of the concept of the ''censorship," see text pp. 68 
et seq. 

claustrophobia. Morbid dread of enclosed spaces. 

collective symbols. See symbols. Collective symbols are 
of the same nature as other symbols; they merely 
presuppose that the condensations and displace- 
ments on which they depend are such as occur in a 
very large number of minds. 

collective unconscious. Jung writes (Psychology of the 
Unconscious, p. 198) : "Although individuals are 
widely separated by differences in the contents of 
their consciousness, they are closely alike in their 
conscious psychology. It is a significant impression 
for one working in practical psychoanalysis when 
he realises how uniform are the typical unconscious 
complexes." Thus the term "collective uncon- 
scious" does not signify much more than "the very 
evident uniformity of the unconscious mechanism" 
(ibid., p. 266). See also collective symbols ; also text, 
p. 165; also Translators' Preface. 

complex. A group of emotionally tinged ideas partially 
or entirely repressed (Jones). According to Bau- 



GLOSSARY 463 

douin, the term, as generally used in psychoanalyti- 
cal literature, lacks precise definition; it ^*may be 
applied to . . . subconscious condensations accom- 
panied by displacements." See p. 51. The reader 
will do well to note that in current parlance the 
notion of repression into the subconscious is not a 
necessary part of the concept "complex." For in- 
stance, Culpin, in Spiritualism and the New Tsy- 
chology, defines the complex as a system of ideas hav- 
ing a common centre, whether the system is present 
in the consciousness or exists only in the unconscious. 
In this sense a ''hobby" is based upon a complex, 
though there may be no repression whatever. Such, 
indeed, is Freud's own usage of the term, for he 
defines complexes (Introductory Lectures, p. 90) as 
* ' circles of thoughts and interests of strong affective 
value." 

condensation. The process whereby images character- 
ised by a common affect are grouped so as to form a 
single composite and new image. See p. 10. An 
extreme form of affective association. Ribot's defi- 
nition will be found on p. 28. See also evocation. 
Freud writes (Introductory Lectures, p. 144) : By 
condensation ''we mean to convey the fact that the 
content of the manifest dream is less rich than that 
of the latent thoughts, is, as it were, a kind of abbre- 
viated translation of the latter." But he goes on to 
say that, if we prefer, the significance of the term 
may be limited to the process in virtue of which 
"latent elements sharing some common character- 
istic are in the manifest dream put together, blended 
into a single whole." 

contention. The psychological equivalent of attention, 
minus effort. (Term employed by Baudouin in ex- 



464 GLOSSARY 

pounding the theory and practice of autosuggestion.) 
See Translators' Preface. 

delusions of persecution. See persecution complex. 

dementia prascox. A common form of insanity in which 
a patient loses contact with reality and withdraws 
into a world of his own imaginings. 

derivation. The process in virtue of which the energy 
of a thwarted instinct finds an outlet in a new chan- 
nel. See also sublimation and displacement. Bau- 
douin says (p. 94) : ''Derivation is the projection 
upon a dynamic plane of that which is displacement 
upon a static plane." 

displacement. Transference of affect from one idea (one 
image, or one object) to another. Baudouin writes: 
*'It might be spoken of as a transference attended 
by forgetfulness, complete or partial, of the point of 
departure." See also transference (2). A fuller 
definition will be found on p. 41. 

dissociation. — (1) The inverse of association, which see. 
The process in virtue of which the close linking be- 
tween two ideas, images, or mental states, is resolved. 
See pp. 202, 265. 

(2) The break-up of consciousness into parts which 
lead independent existences. See pp. 311, 424, 
439. 

Electra complex. Excessive attachment, sexually tinged, 
of the daughter for the father. The feminine coun- 
terpart of the (Edipus complex, which see. See also 
fixation. Sometimes Baudouin refers to the Electra 
complex, or at any rate to fixation upon the father, 
as the paternal complex. 

evocation. A term used by Claparede. Practically 
synonymous with affective association or condensa- 
tion, which see. 



GLOSSARY 465 

Also used in its familiar sense of '^a calling up" 
(by association — through contiguity, similarity, or 
affective rapport). 

exhibitionism. The exposure of some part of the body 
usually concealed, in most cases the genital organs, 
with accompanying sexual excitement. The person 
performing such an act is an exhibitionist. 

extrovert. One whose libido (which see) or vital impetus 
or psychic energy tends mainly outward. Thus the 
extrovert is predominantly a man or woman of feel- 
ing or action. The state of being an extrovert is 
called extroversion. See p. 110. 

father-fixation. See fixation. 

fixation. The arrest of an affect at a more primitive 
stage than that normally corresponding to the indi- 
vidual's age and development. Especially used of 
the fixation of a daughter's sexual affection upon the 
father (father-fixation, see Electro complex) ; and of 
the fixation of a son's sexual affection upon the 
mother (mother-fixation, see (Edipus complex). 

free associations. Associations which do not have as 
their starting point a dream or a reminiscence, but 
such as arise when isolated words are uttered within 
the hearing of the subject of analysis. — See asso- 
ciation. 

This is the sense in which Baudouin uses the term 
in the Studies, for an application of the associative 
method which has been especially developed by Jung. 
But Freud applies the term to any associations which 
are the outcome of ** undirected thinking." He 
writes (Introductory Lectures, p. 88) : ^'When I ask 
a man to say what comes into his mind about any 
given element in a dream, I require him to give him- 
self up to the process of free association which fol- 



466 GLOSSARY 

lows when lie keeps in mind the original idea/' See 
Translators' Preface. 

guiding fiction. The image of an end to be attained, 
which the mind sets up as a rationalisation (which 
see), thus explaining to itself the urge of a subcon- 
scious motive. 

hallucination. An imaginary sensation, one to which no 
objective reality corresponds, experienced while 
awake. See also hypnagogic hallucinations. 

hallucination by compromise. A hallucination suggested 
by the illusory interpretation of an objective reality. 
See p. 60. 

heterosexual. Pertaining to sexual relationships be- 
tween persons of different sexes. 

heterosuggestion. The subconscious realisation of an 
idea suggested by another. Also, the act of sug- 
gesting an idea to another. 

homosexuality. Love for a member of the same sex. 

hypnagogic hallucinations. Hallucinations experienced 
in the psychological state which immediately pre- 
cedes falling asleep. They are thus intermediary be- 
tween hallucinations proper (those experienced in 
the waking state) and dreams. 

hypnosis. A general name for states of outcropping of 
the subconscious (which see) produced by immobili- 
sation of the attention, and for states of somnolence 
which are distinguishable from ordinary drowsiness 
by their mode of production. 

ideoreflex process. The process by which an idea realises 
itself or tends to realise itself in action. (It is to 
this that Baudouin limits the significance of the term 
suggestion.) 

imagination. [The translators have been taken to task 
by a reviewer for not including this term in the 



GLOSSARY 467 

Glossary to Suggestion and Autosuggestion. Like 
other persons, Baudouin uses the word in varying 
senses, which the context makes intelligible.] The 
meaning ranges from: (1) The action of imagining, 
or forming a mental concept of, what is not actually 
present to the senses; to (2) the faculty by which 
images are formed, or revived, the latter being ** re- 
productive imagination^'; and (3) the power which 
the mind has of forming concepts beyond those de- 
rived from external objects, this being ''productive 
imagination"; and (4) the creative faculty of the 
mind in its highest aspect, its power of framing new 
and striking intellectual conceptions, its poetic or 
scientific genius — this is "creative imagination.'* 

infantilism. Fixation at an infantile state, and especially 
at an infantile state of feeling. See fixation. 

inferiority complex. (Adler's terminology.) The com- 
plex which results from the thwarting of man's 
natural urge to self-expansion, and which (when 
repressed into the subconscious) impels him to try 
to achieve power along some other line than that in 
which his energies are blocked. See also masculine 
protest. 

interest. This term is suggested by Claparede to replace 
libido, which see. See text, p. 113. 

introvert. One whose libido (which see) or vital impetus 
or psychic energy tends mainly inward. Thus the 
introvert is predominantly a thinker. The state of 
being an introvert is called introversion. See 
p. 110. 

kinaesthetic sensations. Sensations that accompany mus- 
cular movements or efforts. Sometimes spoken of 
collectively as the "muscular sense." 

libido. Sexual hunger; the mental aspect of the sexual 



468 GLOSSAUY 

instinct. But by psychoanalysts the term ** sexual'' 
is used with wide connotations, so that ** libido*' be- 
comes almost synonymous with '^psychic energy," 
and also with what Bergson terms the 'Wital im- 
petus." Indeed, Tansley defines libido as **the 
psychic energy inherent in the great natural com- 
plexes, or becoming attached to any individual com- 
plex, and discharging itself along the appropriate 
conative channels." In like manner, Jung unifies 
all instinctive energy under the term ** libido." See 
also text, p. 102. Baudouin (p. 108) summarises the 
definition thus: ** Libido is instinctive energy consid- 
ered from the outlook of the faculty for undergoing 
transformation and evolution." [This word should 
be pronounced *4ibeedo," with the stress on the 
second syllable.] 

masculine protest. (Adler's terminology.) The in- 
feriority complex (which see) leads to a desire for 
superiority — a ''wish to be a complete man," the 
''masculine protest." Adler regards the idea of in- 
feriority as associated with femininity. 

masochism. Voluptuous (sexual) enjoyment experienced 
when suffering mental or bodily pain, usually in- 
flicted from without; the counterpart of sadism. 

maternal complex. See (Edipus complex. 

memory trace. The effect left on the organism by any 
experience, the effect in virtue of which, when the 
like experience recurs, the reaction of mind or body 
differs from that which was the immediate result of 
the first experience of the kind. 

mother-fixation. See fixation. 

narcissism. The concentration of interest (usually sexual 
interest) upon one's own body and one's own per- 
sonality in general. (From the myth of Narcissus.) 



GLOSSARY 469 

Some Freudian writers shorten the term to *'nar- 
cism/' 

neurosis. Functional disorder of the nervous system. 
According to psychoanalytical theory, such disorder 
is (in many cases at least) an undesirable derivative 
of thwarted instinctive energy. See derivation. 

(Edipus complex. Defined by Ernest Jones as *Hhe 
(usually unconscious) desire of a son to kill his 
father and possess his mother. ' ' Many would prefer 
to define it, less uncompromisingly, as excessive at- 
tachment, sexually tinged, of the son for the mother. 
The counterpart in women is the Electra complex, 
which see. See also fixation. Baudouin tersely de- 
fines the CEdipus complex as ' * the condition in which 
a boy is greatly attached to his mother while more 
or less hostile to his father." See text, p. 219. 
Sometimes Baudouin refers to the (Edipus complex, 
or at any rate to fixation upon the mother, as the 
maternal complex. 

outcropping of the subconscious. The invasion of the 
upper levels of consciousness by uprushes from the 
subconscious. See Translators' Preface. 

over-determination. In Freudian phraseology, when a 
psychological phenomenon is the outcome of several 
factors, any one of which seems competent (acting 
in isolation) to produce the effect, it is said to be 
** over-determined. ' ' Baudouin uses the term in a 
rather more restricted sense: **The elements which 
are associated (condensed) in virtue of their being 
tinged with a common affect, are usually associated 
as well in virtue of the objective laws of association 
(contiguity, similarity, contrast). See p. 52. 

paternal complex. See Electra complex. 

persecution complex. The psychoanalytical term for 



470 GLOSSARY 

what alienists usually speak of as *^ delusions of per- 
secution/' these being morbid beliefs on the part of 
a patient that he is being persecuted, slandered, and 
injured. 

phobia. Intense and persistent morbid dread of some 
object or class of objects. See, for instance, claus- 
trophobia. 

psychoanalysis. (Freudian usage.) A study and anal- 
ysis of man's unconscious motives and desires as 
shown in various nervous disturbances and in cer- 
tain manifestations of everyday life in normal indi- 
viduals. Ernest Jones defines it briefly as * ' the study 
of unconscious mentation." — Baudouin would not 
reject this definition; but he also regards psycho- 
analysis as *'an evolutionary theory of the instincts." 
See p. 13. 

rationalisation. The inventing of a reason for an atti- 
tude or action, the motive of which is not recognised. 
£^' regression. Two meanings in Freudian terminology: (1) 
Resolution of an idea into its sensorial components 
instead of the usual passage onwards in the direction 
of action. (2) Reversion of mental life, in some re- 
spect, to that characteristic of an earlier stage of 
development, often an infantile one. (Jones.) For 
Baudouin 's critique of the term, see pp. 55 et seq. 

representation. The image of an object in the mind. 
Adjectival form representative. See also imagina- 
tion. 

repression. (Freudian usage.) The keeping from con- 
sciousness of mental processes that would be painful 
to it. See also censor. For Baudouin 's critique of 
the Freudian theory of repression, see text, pp. 67 
et seq. and pp. 79 et seq. 

resistance. **The instinctive opposition displayed towards 



GLOSSARY 471 

any attempt to lay bare the iinconscioTis ; a manifesta- 
tion of the repressing forces/' (Jones.) 

sadism. Voluptuous (sexual) enjoyment on inflicting, or 
witnessing the infliction of, bodily or mental pain; 
the counterpart of masochism. 

subconscious. In Baudouin's terminology, a region of the 
mind normally inaccessible to consciousness — ^usually 
spoken of by psychoanalysts as the * ^ unconscious. " 
See Baudouin, Suggestion and Autosuggestion, pp. 
275-6; also footnote to p. 73; also Translators' 
Preface. [It should be noted that the Viennese 
school of psychoanalysts (school of Freud) looks 
upon the subconscious (unconscious) as preeminently 
the storehouse of the ''lower" or more primitive 
elements of human nature. The Zurich school 
(school of Jung), on the other hand, stresses also the 
importance of ''higher" elements in the subconscious 
(unconscious) — elements of a progressive character. 
Baudouin does not commit himself to any theory on 
this matter; but it will be obvious to his readers 
that he does not regard the subconscious as merely 
a Caliban.] Baudouin uses the form "subconscious" 
because the "unconscious" includes the sphere of 
physiological processes (reflex action, etc.) which are 
not mental at all. Thus, for him, the subconscious 
is "the psychological unconscious." See Suggestion 
and Autosuggestion, pp. 275-6. 

sublimation. The employment of energy belonging to a 
primitive instinct in a new and derived, i.e., non- 
primitive, channel. E.g., the use of sexual energy in 
"intellectual" love or creative work. Baudouin 
terms sublimation "a successful and beneficent 
derivation" (p. 85). See derivation. (See also p. 
377.) 



472 GLOSSARY 

suggestibility. Readiness to realise a suggestion. (In 
Baudouin's use of the term — in more or less com- 
plete independence of heterosuggestion.) Readiness 
to realise an autosuggestion. 

suggestion. The subconscious realisation of an idea. 
See also ideoreflex process. 

superiority complex. The individual's emotionally tinged 
conviction that he excels others in one or many re- 
spects. Often a subconscious reaction against the 
inferiority complex, which see. 

symbol. Something that, not being a portrait, stands 
for something else ; an emblem. For peculiarities in 
the psychoanalytical use of this term, see text, pp. 
61 et seq. See symbolism. See also collective sym- 
bols. 

symbolism and symbolisation. Representation by sym- 
bols. The Freudians regard this as the means 
whereby the workings of the unconscious are veiled 
from the conscious mind. But Baudouin writes (p. 
10) : ''Condensation (which see) ... is the first stage 
in the creation of the symbol. I look upon sym- 
bolisation as a general law of the imagination, and 
not as being necessarily the outcome of the masking 
of forbidden representations." See also Trans- 
lators' Preface, and text, pp. 61, et seq. 

systematised delusions. Delusions which produce a con- 
sistent and logical effect upon the patient's conduct. 

teleology, subconscious. The law of subconscious tele- 
ology runs as follows: ''Suggestion acts by subcon- 
scious teleology; when the end has been suggested, 
the subconscious finds means for its realisation." 

transference. (1) As used by Ribot. May in a sense be 
regarded as the inverse of condensation (which see). 
Here a feeling, instead of grouping round itself a 



GLOSSARY 473 

number of separate images, is itself dispersed over 
a number of associated images. (See p. 30.) 

(2) As used by Claparede in a sense identical with 
that of Freud's VerscJiiehimg (displacement). Simi- 
lar to (1), but the feeling does not merely become 
related to a new object; it is partly or wholly de- 
tached from its former object. (See p. 33.) This 
leads us to : 

(3) As used by practising psychoanalysts to-day 
in reference to ''the transference of affect on to the 
analyst." The affect thus displaced may be either 
positive or negative, a liking or a dislike. Trans- 
ference on to the analyst, with "fixation of affect," 
is discussed by Baudouin, pp. 139 et seq. 

unconscious. See subconscious. 



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Tansley, Arthur George, The New Psychology and its Re- 
lation to Life, new ed., revised and enlarged, Allen & 
Unwin, London, 1922. 

Thorndike, Edward Lee, Educational Psychology, New 
York, 1914. 

Thorndike, Edward Lee, The Elements of Psychology, 
,New York, 1917. 

Varendonck, J., The Psychology of Day-Dreams, Allen 
& Unwin, London, 1921. 

VoDOZ, J., ''Roland," un symbole. Champion, Paris, 1920. 

Ward, James, Psychological Principles, Cambridge Univer- 
sity Press, 1918. 

Zenia X., see Jellifpe. 



INDEX 



Abel, 316 

Absence of Mind, 50 
Absinthe as Symbol, 363, 365 
Accent, vulgar, see Vulgarity 
Acceptance — 

of Analyst, see Transference 
of Normal Love and Marriage, 
320 
Accident as Symbol, 150, 156, 

157, 396, 406 
Action — 

Man of, 304, 306 
pent-up, 11, 55, 57, 76 
Actives, 55 

Activity, outward, 304 
Adam, old, Casting off, 319, 334 
Adaptation hiologique du Freud- 
isme aux psychonevroses de 
guerre, 21, 482 
Adaptation to Real, 11, 73 
ADf.EB, 1, 9, 12, 13, 14, 104, 105, 
106, 107, 108, 111, 115, 208, 
219, 220, 268, 286, 467, 468, 
475 
Adolescence, Crisi of, 190-218 
Adolescente, 191, 478 
Affect- 
see also Emotion 
as Creator, 55 
defined, 461 
Affective aspect of Instinct, 88, 

90 
Affective Basis of Intelligence, 

29, 54, 475 
Affective Theory of the Associa- 
tion of Ideas, 25-36 
Affectives, 55 
Affectivity — 

based on Instinct, 96 
Biological Theory of, 6, 14 
explained by Instinct, 6 
Mechanism of, 149 
subconscious, 67 



485 



Agamemnon, 302 

Alarm, subconscious sexual, 384 

Algolagnia, 85 

Allegory, 64 

Amiel, 34 

Anaesthesia induced by Sugges- 
tion, 138 

Analysis, see Psychoanalysis 

Analysis of Mind, 3, 483 

Analyst, see Psychoanalyst 

Analytical Study of Psycho- 
analysis, 112, 115 

Andeeieff, 454 

Andromeda, 445 

Anger, 89 

Anguish, 239, 240 

Animal Intelligence, 90, 483 

Animated Statues, 173 

Anonymous, 475 

Ant and Grasshopper, 342 

Anxiety, 238, 240, 326 
Dream, see Dream 
Neurosis, 115, 298, 461 
States, 115, 237, 295, 296-320 

Apollo, Uffizi, 259, 261, 262, 265 

Apprentice as Substitute for Fa- 
ther, 264 

A propos d'un cas de contrac- 
ture hysterique, 126, 481 

Archaic Aspect of Dreams, 69, 
70 

Archaische Elemente in den 
Wahnideen eines Paranoiden, 
70, 483 

Aristotle, 7, 25 

** Archives de Psychologic," 209, 
477, 478, 480, 481 

Arnold-Forsteb, 475 

Arranging, Mania for, 383 

Art, 76, 96, 117, 133 

its Appeal depends on Rela- 
tion to Complexes, 171 
Origin and Function of, 387^ 



486 



INDEX 



Artistic Ambition, 322 
Arts, plastic, 387 
Abtus-Perrelet, 396, 475, 476, 

482 
Association — 

affective, 28, 33-53, 71, 72, 461, 
463, 464, see also Condensa- 
tion 
affective, Laws of, 33-53 
by Contiguity, 25, 28, 38, 39, 

52, 72, 461, 469 
by Contrast, 25, 46, 52, 152, 

177, 356, 458, 461, 469 
by Similarity, 25, 28, 38, 39, 

52, 72, 461, 469 
defined, 461 

free, 62, 63, 389, 461, 465 
Jung's Researches, 53 
of Ideas, Affective Theory, 25- 
36 
Association des I dees, 31, 166, 

476 
Associationism, 26, 27, 32, 41 

to Psychoanalysis, 25-36 
Associationist Evolutionists, 166 
Associationists, 26, 27, 37, 41, 

52 
Associations — 

Inheritance of, 166 
spontaneous, 424, 440 
Assoziationsfahigkeit in ihrer 
Ahhangigkeit von der Ver- 
teilung der Wiederholung, 
480 
Asthma, 105 
Attention, 61, 132 
Attenuation of Affect by Dis- 
placement, 152 
Attitude toward Analyst, 421, 

423 
Authority — 
maternal. Wish to escape from, 

296, 347, 395 
paternal, 187, 191, 214, 232, 
265, 299 
Auto-erotism, 85, 199, 372, 439, 

446, 461 
Automatic Association, 424, 440 
Automatic Drawing, 457 
Automatic Painting, 383 
Automatic Writing, 204, 383, 
424 



Automatism, psychological, 121 

Automatisme psychologique, 40, 
479 

Autopsychoanalysis, 266, 268-282 

Autosuggestion, 123, 129, 130, 
131, 142, 230, 233, 242, 243, 
245, 263, 265, 277, 279, 281, 
293, 299, 348, 354, 355, 382, 
422, 425, 456, 462 

Avarice, 182, 186 

Avenue as Symbol, 358 

Awkwardness and Constraint, 
242-265 



Bag as Symbol, 336 

Bajazet, 436 

Baldwin, 479 

Balzac, 436 

Bancels, see Laeguieb des 
Bancels 

Bandaged Eyes as Symbol, 389, 
391, 393 

Bankruptcy, fraudulent, as Sym- 
bol, 326, 327, 329 

Baron, 482 

Basement Window as Symbol, 
292 

Basket as Symbol, 241 

BAUDOTjm, 15, 29, 50, 54, 60, 61, 
79, 88, 128, 133, 209, 461, 
462, 463, 464, 465, 467, 468, 
469, 470, 471, 472, 473, 476 

Bear — 

as Symbol, 391, 392 
Pit as Symbol, 389, 392 

Bearded Man as Symbol, 181, 
182, 271 

Beast, human, 209 

Beasts, sticky, as Symbols, 166 

Beatrice (Portinari), 305, 332 

Benoist-Hanappier, 276 

Bergerac, 429, 430, 437 

Bergson, 5, 32, 33, 56, 57, 58, 
59, 60, 61, 79, 109, 325, 326, 
429, 431, 433, 468, 476 

Bernheim, 112, 121, 122, 129, 136 

Bibliography, 475-484 

Bicycle — 

as Symbol, 371 
Wheels as Symbol, 241 

Black Dress as Symbol, 200 



INDEX 



487 



Bleulee, 52, 476 

Blood as Symbol, 302, 358 

Blushing, 181 

Boaz, 120 

Boaz endormi, 120 

Bog as Symbol, 174, 175 

Bolt as Symbol, 241 

Bourget, 433 

Bovet, 4, 8, 9, 13, 14, 76, 85, 94, 

115, 117, 118, 119, 375, 396, 

476, 482 
Boy Scouts, 439 
Breaking away from Analyst, 

421, 444 
Breaking away from Father, see 

Protest 
Breaking away from Mother, 

180, 296, 395, 397, see also 

Fixation 
Breathing Exercises, 382 
Beeuer, 32, 121, 122, 457, 476, 

478 
Bridges between recent and 

earlier Psychology, 4, 19 
Brill, 478 

Bromides, 340, 367 
Bronchitis, 329 
Brother — 

little, as Symbol, 308, 310 
as Substitute for Father, 316, 

327, 374, 451 
Bro^vn as Symbol, 225, 226 
Brunschvigg, 33, 476 
Brush as Symbol, 338, 339 
Bruyere, 251 
Burglar as Symbol, 235, 236, 

237, 319 
Burial Fantasy, 185, 435 
Burying as Symbol, 372 
Bushy Trees as Symbol, 358 
Butcher's Shop as Symbol, 176, 

177 



CaU as Symbol, 175, 176, 177, 

245 
Cain, 316 
Caliban, 471 

Canary as Symbol, 244, 245, 246 
Caracteres, 251 
Caresses, Refusal of, 179 
Caressive Impulse, 330 



Caricatures of psychological 
Type, nervous Disorders as, 
295 

Carlos, Don, 98 

"Carmel, Le," 279 

Cassiopeia, 273 

Catalepsy, 141 

Categories of Psychoanalysis, 
1-21, 96 

Caterpillar as Symbol, 168 

Cathartic Method, 457, 462 

Catholicism and Protestantism, 
213 214 

Causality, 62, 119 

Cellar as Symbol, 181, 185 

Censorship, 10, 68, 70, 71, 77, 
78, 79, 80, 115, 125, 267, 
289, 312, 462, 470, see also 
Repression 

Ge que les parents devraient 
savoir sur leurs filles, 191, 
482 

Ceremonial, religious. Dislike 
for, 321 

Certain Age, Woman of, as Sym- 
bol, 348 

Chain as Symbol, 217 

Change of Analyst, 422-448 

Change of Beds as Symbol, 389 

Charcot, 112, 121, 122, 125, 129, 
141 

Charles X, 65 

Charming, Prince, 176 

Cheerfulness, excessive, 383 

Child as Symbol, 309, 318, 344 

Child-bearing, Refusal of, 286 

Children, 147-189 

Chimney-Sweep as Symbol, 50, 
63, 283 

Christ, 39, 62, 120, 224, 369, 
375, 420, 458, 459, see also 
Jesus 

Christian Science, 130 

ClaparI;de, 4, 5, 26, 31, 32, 33, 
51, 59, 73, 74, 101, 103, 108, 
112, 113, 166, 464, 467, 468, 
473, 476, 477 

Clark, 352, 477 

Classical Psychology, see Psy- 
chology of the Schools 

Claustrophobia, 118, 210, 462 

Cleaning as Symbol, 349 



488 



INDEX 



Clerk- 
chief, as Substitute for Fa- 
ther, 232, 382 
head, as substitute for Fa- 
ther, 232, 382 
Cliffs as Symbol, 228 
Clinical Study of some mental 
Contents in epileptic At- 
tacks, 352, 477 
Clytenmestra, 302 
CocHET, 143, 477 
Coddling, 329, 333 
Collaboration between Sugges- 
tion and Psychoanalysis, 16, 
138 
Collected Papers on Analytical 

Psychology, 480 
Collective Neurosis, 106 
Collective Suggestion, see Sug- 
gestion, collective 
Collective Unconscious, see Un- 
conscious, collective 
Columbus, 4, 92 

Compensation (Adler), 104, 208 
Complex — 

defined, 51, 462 
inferiority, 467, 468 
maternal, see Maternal Com- 
plex and CEdipus Complex 
parental, see also Fixation 
paternal, 231-242, 349, 464 
Persecution, see Persecution, 

Ideas of 
Superiority, see Superiority 

Complex 
Uniform, 223 
Complexes — 

explaining normal Character 

Traits, 294 
revealed by favourite Poetry, 

168 
underlying Neuroses, 294 
CoMTE, 20, 477 
Concentration, 132 

deficient, 321, 388 
Conciliation of Psychoanalysis 

with Suggestion, 127-143 
Condensation, 10, 11, 28, 29, 30, 
34-44, 59, 60, 62, 63, 64, 67, 
68, 71, 72, 77, 86, 87, 94, 96, 
97, 116, 117, 154, 166, 302, 
327, 359, 411-420, 445, 451, 



452, 455, 461, 462, 463, 464, 
472 
Law of, 51, 52 

CONDILLAC, 25, 477 

Confession, 143 

Conflict, 115, 237, 241, 355, 
378 
in Children, 148 
State of, 206-218 

Conquete de soi-meme, 475 

Constantine, 427 

Constraint, Feeling of, 184, 192- 
195, 242-265 

Consumption, see Tuberculosis 

Contamination, Ideas of, 350, 
351, 364, 365, see also De- 
filement 

Contemplations, 198 

Contemplative Life, 331 

Content — 
latent, 463 
manifest, 463 

Contention, 132, 463 

Contiguity — 
see Association 
Law of, 25 

Continence, 240 

Contracture, 32, 50, 361 

Contrast — 

see Association 

between Psychoanalysis and 

Suggestion, 121-127 
Law of, 25 

Contribution d Vetude des types 
psychologiques, 109, 480 

Convulsive seizures, see Epilepsy 

Cooperative as Symbol, 447 

Corpus Christi procession, 332 

Coquetry objectified, 384, 386, 
387 

CouE, 129, 131, 134, 477 

Councillors, federal, as Substi- 
tutes for Father, 373 

Cours de pMlosopMe positive, 
477 

Cours d'JEstMUque, 27, 480 

Courteline, 216 

Creation, aesthetic, 11 

Creative Imagination, see Imagi- 
nation, creative 

Creative Revolution, 3, 482 



INDEX 



489 



Crisis— 

ApoUinian, 387 

Dionysiac, 387 

mental and nervous, as Sym- 
bol, 383, 385, 386 

of Adolescence, 190-218 

of Hostility towards Analyst, 
421 

of Sublimation, 378 

of Transference, 423 
Crookedness as Symbol, 326 
Crowd, Dislike of, 331 
Cruelty in Children, 75 
Cul-de-jatte, 18, see also Legless 

Man 
CuLPiN, 3, 115, 463, 477 
Cultivator of Hysteria, Charcot 

as, 125, 141 
Culture de la force morale, 475 
Cultured Life, 356, 360 
Cunigunde, 432 
Cupboard as Symbol, 445 
Curiosity, 117 
Cyrano, 429, 446 



Dagger as Symbol, 357 

Dalcroze, 418, 419 

Dame voilee, 200 

Danaides, 317 

Dance, St. Vitus's, 212 

Dancing as Symbol, 208, 209, 

212, 213, 218 
Dante, 305, 332 
Daewin, 63, 120, 166, 477 
David, 120 

Day-Dream, see Reverie 
Death, 276 

as Symbol, 175 

Fear of, 269, 274, 423 

Obsession by Idea of, 274 
Decondensation, 63 
Defilement — 

see Contamination 

as Symbol, 234, 236 
Deformed Creature as Symbol, 

366 
Delirium, Language of, 350 
Delusions of Persecution, 352- 
361, 464, see also Persecu- 
tion, Ideas of 
Dementia prsecox, 18, 110, 464 



Demon as Symbol, 309, 310, 316, 

318, see also Devil 
Demoniac, 127 
Demosthenes, 104 
Depreciation of Analyst, 252 
Depression, Fits of, 196 
Derelict Dream, 161, 162, 163, 

see Dream 
Derivation, 56, 86, 91, 94, 102, 

116, 126, 127, 133, 134, 151, 

377, 434, 459, 464, 469, 471 
Dervish, dancing, as Symbol, 17, 

218 
Descartes, 5, 114 
Descent of Man, 120 
Desinvolture, 260 
Desire killing Love, 323 
Dessin au service de Veducation, 

396, 475, 476 

Devil as Symbol, 208, 209, 212, 

316, see also Demon 
DiagnotiscJie Assoziationsver- 

suchen, 476 
Direction (Orientation), 19 
Director, spiritual, 143, 378 
Dirty Food as Symbol, 409 
Dirty Passages as Symbol, 457 
Dirty Snow as Symbol, 341 
Dirty Underlinen as Symbol, 

301, 340, 349 
Dirty Water as Symbol, 340, 349 
Discipline — 

Dislike for, 321, 328 

Prussian, 263 
Disguise in Dreams, 77 
Disgust, 285, 326 

for Coquetry, 384 

inspired by Sexuality, 165, 
256, 289, 357, 359, 385, 390, 

397, 398 
Disinterest, 59 
Disorder, 301, 303 
Disparagement of Analyst, 321 
Displacement, 10, 11, 32, 34, 41, 

45-50, 62, 63, 64, 67, 68, 71, 
73, 74, 75, 77, 81, 94, 95, 113, 
126, 150, 151, 152, 153, 330, 
462, 464, 475 

defined, 47 

Law of, 52 
Dissociation, 202, 265, 310, 424, 
439, 464, 473 



490 



INDEX 



Distinction, Person of, 355 
Distinguished Persons, 356 
Dog as Symbol, 167, 209, 212 
Dogma, religious, Dislike for, 

321 
Doing-up Eoom as Symbol, 348, 

349 
Don Carlos, 98 
Don Juan, 105 
Door as Symbol, 48, 287, 288, 

289 
Dragon as Symbol, 207, 208, 

209 
Drama of Child and Father, 

375 
Dread, see also Fear and Phobia 
Dread Father, 808 
Dread God, 312 
Dread Mother, 198, 258, 299, 

305, 311 
Dread of the Father, 231-242, 

382, 390 
Dream — 

Anxiety, 249 
as Guardian of Sleep. 68 
Bergson's Theory of, 58 
derelict, 161, 162, 163 
drowning, 161, 163 
erotic, 216, 240 
falling, 209 

Freud's Theory of, 68 et seq. 
Function of, 11, 67-73 
Immersion, 174 
its Relation to Play, 12, 73-76 
latent, 463 
manifest, 463 

of forbidden Pleasures, 149, 
156, 157, 160, see also Night- 
mare 
psychoanalytical Theory of, 34, 

58 
Suffocation, 175, 210, 274, 275, 

276, 277 
the symbolical Realisation of 
an unsatisfied Tendency, 82 
Dreaming and Action, 53-66 
Dreaming and Play, 73-76 
Dreams — 

Language of, 350 
Latent Sexuality in, 180 
prophetic, 196 



Dreams that point out the Way, 

95, 96, 335 
Drei Ahhandlungen zur Sexual- 

theorie, 85, 102, 478 
Drevee, 84, 89, 119, 447 
Driver as Symbol, 441, 451, 454 
Drop at the Wrist, 361 
Drowning Dream, 161, 163 
Drunken People as Symbol, 226, 

227 
Duchosal, 197, 198 
Dumas, 118, 477 
Duncan, 432 

DwELSHAUVEES, 27, 28, 478 
Dynamics of the affective Life, 

67-120 



Earth, Descent into, as Symbol, 

172 
Earth's Movement, Obsession 

concerning, 298, 299, 314, 

320 
Ease, 252, 260, 261, 263 

Lack of, 245 
Ebbinghaus, 26, 478 
Eclectics, 19, 27 
Eder, 115, 476, 478, 480^ 
Education in Confraternity, 107 
Educational Psychology, 89, 484 
Educationist, Analyst as, 378, 

423, 441 
Effeminacy, 250, 261, 262 
Ego Instinct, see Instinct, Ego 
Egoism, 106 
Einstein, 21 
Elan vital, 109, 113 
Electra Complex, 224, 464, 465, 

469, see also Paternal Com- 
plex 
Elements of Psychology, 83, 484 
Embryology, psychic, 100 
Emotion, 88-93, 121, see also 

Affect 
Empiricists, 25 
Energie spirituelle, 33, 58, 326, 

476 
Energy, 113, 119, 126 
instinctive, 109, 112, 377 
mental, 109 
psychic, 465 
Engine-Driver, see Driver 



INDEX 



4j91 



Engine Headliglits as Symbol, 
312, 314, 317 

Entdeckungen auf dem Oehiete 
der Seele, 483 

Epilepsy, 367-376 

Epileptic Insanity, 351 

Epileptic States, 350 

Erotic Attitude towards Analyst, 
421 

Erotic Dream, 216, 240 

Erziehung zur Gemeinschaft, 107 

Essai sur Vimagination cr^atrice, 
29, 482 

Essai sur rintroversiofi mys- 
tique, 160, 481 

Essay, see School Essay 

Essay on the Creative Imagina- 
tion, 482 

Ethics, 77, 484 

Etude critique sur Vevolution 
des idees relatives a la 
nature des hallucinations 
vraies, 60, 481 

EvAED, 191, 478 

Evening as Symbol, 278 

Evocation, 31, 36, 461, 463, 464 
Law of, 51 

Evolution — 
mental, 119 
of Instinct, 13, 82-96 

Exaltation, Fits of, 196 

Execution, An, 187 

Exhibitionism, 85, 318, 383, 465 

Exhumation as Symbol, 372 

Expectoration as Symbol, 291, 
399 

Experimental Pedagogy and the 
Psychology of the Child, 73, 
477 

Exploring as Symbol, 395, 406 

Explosion as Symbol, 180 

Extroversion, 108, 109, 110, 118, 
165, 168, 195, 213, 227, 249, 
250, 251, 254, 255, 314, 320, 
328, 429, 442, 465 

Facial Spasm, see Spasm of Eye- 
lid 
Falling — 

as Symbol, 234, 391 

Dream, 209 

Reminiscence, 308 



False Eecognition, 326 
Fantasy — 

Burial, 185, 435 
Fecundity, 404 
Immersion, 160 
Virginitv, 419 

Womb, Return to, 160, 165, 
176, 182, 210, 220, 246, 257, 
258, 365, 390 
Father as Symbol, 249, 320, 373, 

438 
Father, divine, 375 
Father — 

Dread of, see Dread 
Fear of, see Fear 
Reconciliation with, symboli- 
cal, 299 
Repudiation of, 373 
Substitutes for, see Substitute 
tyrannical, 297, 307, 308, 309, 

314, 390 
Vengeance upon the, 317, 318 
Father-Fixation, see Fixation 
Fatherhood, Longing for, 517, 

318 
Fatigue — 

disproportionate, 354 
Duty, 335 
Faust, 339 
Fear — 

{see also Dread and Phobia), 

89, 117, 140, 272 
of being late, 343 
of Cemetery, 305 
of Madness, 365 
of Reality, 295 
of the Father, 231-242, 382 
of the Sexual, 118, 295 
Fears concerning Childbirth, 282- 

284 
Fecundity, Fantasy of, 404 
Feeling Tone, 38 
Femininity, Refusal of, 171-180, 

228, 268, 284-291, 393-410 
Feminist Revolt, 393, 405 
Ferenczi, 123, 124, 125, 131, 

^ 139, 478 
Fetichism for Women's Clothing, 

243, 248 
Feuchtersleben, 261, 262 
Fiance, 355, 356 
Fiction, guiding, 106, 205, 466 



492 



INDEX 



Finalism, 8, see also Teleology- 
Fire as Symbol, 444 
Fixation, 104, 464, 467, 468, 469 
Father, 124, 221, 222, 223, 228, 

314, 410-420, 465 
infantile, 333, 337, 432, 443, 

446, see also Eegression 
Mother, 124, 149, 159, 160, 162, 
163, 169, 171-180, 219, 220, 
238, 242, 246, 287, 288, 289, 
313, 321, 323, 326, 332, 363, 
390, 393, 395, 423, 426, 465, 
467, 468, 469, see also Ma- 
ternal Complex 
Sister, 287, 289 
upon the Analyst, 140, 142 
Fixed Idea, see Obsession 
Flesh and Spirit, 388 
Flournoy, 1, 4, 31, 74, 440, 478 
Flying Dutchman, see Phantom 

Ship 
Flying Dutchman, 226 
Forbidden Pleasure, see Pleasure 
FoBEL, 83, 478 
Forerunner of Psychoanalysis, 

Nietzsche as, 387 
Forerunners, 83, 483 
Formula — 

of Autosuggestion, 265 
of Ease, 265 

FORSTER, 475 

Fourmis de la Suisse, 83, 478 

Frank, 298 

Free Associations, see Associa- 
tion 

Freedom from Mother, Desire 
for, 395, see also Breaking 
away from Mother 

Freud, 4, 7, 9, 12, 13, 14, 21, 31, 
32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 38, 41, 48, 
53, 54, 56, 58, 61, 62, 64, 66, 
67, 68, 69, 74, 75, 76, 77, 78, 
79, 80, 81, 85, 86, 87, 92, 101, 
102, 103, 104, 105, 106, 107, 
108, 109, 110, 111, 112, 115, 
120, 121, 122, 123, 127, 128, 
129, 136, 139, 199, 219, 229, 
266, 268, 269, 310, 314, 461, 
463, 465, 475, 476, 477, 478 

Freud's Concept of the Censor- 
ship, 70, 483 



Freud's Theory of the Dream, 

67 et seq. 
Frigidity, 284, 290 
Frog as Symbol, 184, 185 
Fruit, forbidden, see Pleasure 
Function of Dreams, 11, 67-73 
Function of the Real, 56, 325, 

326 
Fussy Activity, 221, 295, 339-349 



Galileo, 21 

Gaixichatnt, 3, 479 

Gefiihlsbetonte Komplexe, 53 

Genealogy of Tendencies, 96-120 

General Survey, 1-21 

Genesis, Book of, 368 

Geneva as Meeting-place of two 
Cultures, 4 

George, Saint, 317, 318 

German Spies as Symbol, 309, 
310 

Gil Bias, 215 

Glossary, 461-473 

Gluck, 475 

Goblin as Symbol, 212 

God- 
as Love, 308 
as Tyrant, 308 

God's Eyes, 312 

Goethe, 339, 459 

Gonorrhoea, 322 

Gracian, 260, 261, 262 

Grasshopper and Ant, 342 

Grey Clothing as Symbol, 270, 
271, 273, 454 

Grimacing old Women as Sym- 
bol, 298, 299, 306 

Grimm, 212, 257 

GrundzUge der Psychologic, 481 

Grogs, 12, 73, 76, 479 

Gschwind, 482 

Guardian of Sleep, Dream as, 
68 

Ouerison et evolution dans la vie 
de Vame, 119, 481 

Guide — 

Identification with, 366 
Lack of, 396 

Search for, 117, 296, 421-460 
Sublimation of Idea of, 448- 
460 



INDEX 



493 



Guide (Cont.) 
well-informed and cultured, 

356 
Guiding Dreams, 95, 96, 335 
Guiding Fiction, see Fiction, 

Guiding 
Gymnastics as Symbol, 213, 381 

Habit-spasm, 32, 50 

Haldane, 259 

Hallucination, 60, 61, 209, 384, 
466 
by Compromise, 60, 466 
hypnagogic, 298, 466 

Hamilton, 25, 479 

Hanappier, 276 

Haet, 350, 479 

Haste, Obsession with, 346 

Hat- 
pointed, as Symbol, 386 
tall, as Symbol, 373 

Headache, 192 

Helvetius, 243 

Henrath, 42-44 

Hercules, 35, 278 

Hesnaed, 1, 2, 53, 454, 479, 484 

Heterosexuality, 466 

Heterosuggestion, 466 

Hide and Seek, 329 

Hiding as Symbol, 237, 389 

Hill, 477 

HiNKLE, 480 

History of a Five-Franc Piece, 

181 et seq. 
Hoarseness as Symbol, 398, 399 
Hobby, 463 
Holman, 477 
Homeopathy, 367 
Homesickness for Mother, 246 
Homosexuality, 85, 105, 190, 

191, 261, 268, 287, 289, 291, 

295, 311, 312, 313, 314, 322, 

375, 399, 421, 423, 427, 429, 

446, 466 
Hostility — 

from, to Sympathy, 422-448 

to the Analyst, 421 

to the Family Environment, 

351, 359 
to the Father, 219, 220, 238, 

239, 295, 297, 299, 393, 398, 

469 



Hostility (Cont.) 

to the Mother, 295, 346 
to the Sister, 295 
Housework, Dislike of, 354, 359 
Hugo, 120, 198, 375, 393, 432 
Human Beast, 200 
Hurry up, 343 
Hydrophobia, 122 
Hypersuggestibility, 205 
Hypnagogic Hallucination, see 

Hallucination 
Hypnosis, 446, see also Hypno- 
tism 
Hypnotism, 17, 121, 122, 123, 

124, 125, 128, 129, 130, 132, 

136, 137, 200, 204 
spontaneous, 202 
three States of, 141 
EypotJiese zur psychologischen 

Bedeutung der Verfolgung- 

sidee, 351, 480 
Hysteria, 68, 110, 121, 125, 141, 

352, 359 



Ibsen, 425, 428, 431, 432 
Ichtrieb, 103, 104, 109 
Idees nouvelles sur la sugges- 
tion, 475 
Ideoreflex Power of Autosugges- 
tion, 142 
Ideoreflex Process, 446, 472 
Ill-humour, 355, 357 
"Illustration, L'," 194 
Images, composite, 36 
Imagination, 10, 73, 74, 268, 
466, 470 

affective, 81 

based on Affectivity, 96 

controlled by Subconscious, 148 

creative, 11, 36, 54, 55, 57, 72, 
104, 467 

epic, 94 

explained by Affectivity, 6 

productive, 467 

reproductive, 467 
Imago — 

maternal, 305, 306, 323, 330 

paternal, 223, 228, 234, 304, 
351, 420, 454, 459 
Imitation, see Instinct, imitative 
Imitation of Christ, 117 



494 



INDEX 



Immersion — 
Dream, 174 

Fantasy, 160, 185, 186, 324 
Impetus, vital, 109, 113, 465 
Impotence, 284, 295, 321-339 
Impulses, Control of, 132 
Inattention, 56, 57 
Incubated, Longing to be, 246 
Indecent Assault, 364 
Individualism, 221, 321, 322 
of the Introvert, 250 
Eight to, 215 
Indulgence, maternal, 182, 243 
Infantile Aspect of Dream 

States, 70, 72, 75 
Infantile Attitude towards Ana- 
lyst, 421 
Infantile Attitude towards Par- 
ents, 295, 314 
Infantile autoerotic Stage, 199 
Infantile erotic Feelings towards 

Parents, 124 
Infantile Paralysis, 449 
Infantile Eegression, 124, 334, 

350, 373, 432, 434 
Infantile Sexuality, 177, 219 
Infantilism, 434, 467, see also 

Regression 
Inferiority Complex, 467, 468, 

472 
Influence, 142, 143 

undue. Analyst must avoid, 
422 
Inhibition, 57, 83, 217 
Inland as Symbol of Extrover- 
sion, 211 
Innate Associations and Conden- 
sations, 166 
Insanity — 

and Epilepsy, 370 
epileptic, 351 
Insomnia, 245, 423 
Inspectionism, 85 
Instability, physical. Feeling of, 

298 
Instinct — 

combative, 4, 76, 89, 94, 97, 
115, 117, 118, 119, 246, 248, 
310 
Disorders of, 90 
Ego, 103, 108 
Evolution of, 12, 82-96, 97, 112 



Instinct (Cont.) 

for Motherhood, 266, 267, 268, 

282-292 
for Power, 12, 114 
imitative, 117, 118, 140, 251 
maternal, 117, 378 
material, thwarted, 393-410 
of Courtship, 118 
of Expansion of Personality, 

104 
of Self-Preservation, 104, 115, 

266-293 
sexual, 12, 85, 92, 93, 97, 101, 
102, 103, 104, 109, 114, 115, 
117, 118, 140, 199, 214, 246, 
267, 378 
Sleep as, 73 
social, 118, 221, 443 
sublimated. Repression of, 255, 

418 
Suppression of, 12, 85, 87, 88, 

116 
thwarted, 377 

Transformation of, 12, 83, 85, 
90, 119 
Instinct and the Unconscious, 21, 

115, 482, 483 
Instinct comhatif, 4, 76, 85, 115, 

119, 476 
Instinct in Man, 84, 89, 119, 477 
Instinct vjith Original Observa- 
tions of Young Animals, 484 
Instincts expressed in Dreams, 

266 
Institut de rhythmique Jaques 

Dalcroze, 419 
Institut Jean Jacques Rousseau, 

419, 447 
Institute for the Practice of 

Autosuggestion, 477 
Intelligence, 11, 73, 84 
Interest, 91, 113, 141 
"Internationale Zeitschrift fiir 

Psychoanalyse," 478 
Internment, 322 
Interpretation of Dreams, 269, 

478 
Interpretation of Dreams, 156 
Interpretation of Dreams, Sim- 
plicity in, 156 
Introduction a la psychologie, 
481 



INDEX 



495 



Introduction d la vie de Vesprit, 
33, 476 

Introduction to Social Psychol- 
ogy, 89, 481 

Introductory Lectures on Psycho- 
analysis, 103, 463, 478 

Introjehtion und Uehertroigung, 
123, 478 

Introspection, 296, 321 

Introversion, 56, 94, 108, 109, 
110, 117, 118, 181-186, 211, 
219, 246, 250, 254, 258, 260, 
265, 273, 320, 323, 324, 325, 
326, 328, 353-361, 372, 375, 

388, 432, 434, 439, 448 
Inversion, see Homosexuality 
Ironmaster, 407 

Italian as Symbol, 336, 337 

*'Jalirbueh fiir psyclioanalytische 

und psychopathologische For- 

schungen," 479 
James, 4, 5, 7, 12, 83, 84, 85, 88, 

89, 91, 479 
Janet, 20, 21, 40, 56, 70, 121, 

122, 128, 140, 479 
Jealousy, 219, 226, 239, 297, 341, 

342, 343 
Jehovah, 308 
Jelliffe, 71, 479, 484 
Jesus, 207, 208, 366, 370, see also 

Christ 
Society of, 116 
John the Baptist, 303 
Jones, 115, 461, 462, 469, 470, 

478, 480 
Joseph, Saint, 271, 273 
JosT, 26, 480 
JouFFROY, 5, 27, 28, 480 
"Journal de Psychologic," 21, 482 
"Journal of Psychology," 479 
Juan, Don, 105 
Jumping as Symbol, 372 
Jung, 1, 3, 9, 12, 53, 56, 69, 70, 

74, 94, 100, 102, 103, 104, 

107, 108, 109, 110, 119, 462, 

465, 471, 476, 480 
Justice, Statue of, as Symbol, 

389, 391, 392 

Kaiser as Symbol, 309, 310 
Kemp, 259 



Killing the old Man, 187 et seq. 

Kinsesthesia, 58, 267 

Kingdom divided against itself, 

218 
Kinship, biological, 99 
KoLNAi, 100, 480 
Komplexe, 53 
Knife as Symbol, 398 

Laederach, 42-44 

Laforgue, 40 

Lakme, 432, 437 

Lamp as Symbol, 180 

Lang, 351, 480 

Language of Dreams, 350 

Labguier des Bancels, 6, 81, 
116, 475, 481 

Late, Fear of being, 343 

Latent Content, 463 

Latent Sexuality in Dreams, 180 

Latin Quarter, 214, 216 

Lay, Le, 479 

Lazarus, 433 

Leaders — 

as Substitutes for Father, 373 
Revolt against, as Symbol, 374 

Lehen des Traumes, 269, 483 

Lectures on Metaphysics, 479 

Leg, red, as Symbol, 208, 209, 
217 

Legendes des siecles, 120 

Legless Man, 363, 366 

Leisure, 360 

Le Lay, 479 

Lemaitke, 191, 209, 268, 481 

Leonidas, 276 

Lepine, 115, 481 

Lethargy, 141 

Letters persanes, 11 

Leueet, 60 

Leviathan as Symbol, 208 

Libido, 13, 102, 103, 108, 109, 
110, 112, 113, 114, 119, 141, 
219, 465, 467 

Lice as Symbol, 286, 289 

Liebault, 129 

Life- 
Reaching out towards, 159 
Superabundance of, 329 
as Symbol, 445 

Life of Man, 454 

Lind, 475 



^96 



INDEX 



Little Red Riding Hood, 257 

Little Snow-White, 258 

Lizard as Symbol, 184 

Locke, 7, 25* 

Logic, 481 

Logique des sentiments, 29, 31, 

482 
Lohengrin, 442, 443, 446 
Long, 480 

Lorgnette as Symbol, 399, 401 
Louch, 477 

Louis XVI, 39, 40, 62, 65 
Louis XVIII, 21 
Love, 322 
Low, 482 
Loyola, 116 
Ludendorff, 310 
Lulling, 325, 326 



MaoCurdy, 13, 115, 118, 481 
McDougall, 89, 481 
"Macmillan's Magazine," 83, 484 
Madness, Fear of, 365 
Maeder, 74, 119, 481 
Magdalen, Mary, 329 
Magnet, Affective Life as, 27 
Maitrise de soi-meme par Vauto- 
suggestion consciente, 129, 
477 
Make-up, 330 
Maladaptation to Femininity, 

286 
Maladaptation to Reality, 306 
Maladaptation to Sexuality, 288 
Maladaptation to Social Life, 
169, 181, 190, 195, 248, 322, 
328, 331, 379-382, 388 
Maladies de la personalite, 70, 

483 
Malaise, 355 

Maltreatment of Child, 362-367 
Mania, 354, 368 

religious, 367-376 
Maniacal Disturbances, 383-387 
Manifest Content, 463 
Ma Parfumee, 187 
Mariage de Roland, 375 
Marionette as Symbol, 280 
Marriage — 

Acceptance of, 168 

Desire for, 296 



Marriage {Cont.) 
Non-Acceptance of, 393-410 
Repugnance to, 164, 168 

Mary Magdalen, 339 

Mary, Saint, 273, see also Virgin 
Mary 

Masculine Protest, 267, 286, 467, 
468 

Masculine Role in Women, 171, 
228, 394, 405 

Masochism, 85, 313, 317, 468, 
471 

Masturbation, 238, 241, 242, 284, 
286, 291, 309, 312, 318, 322, 
327, 371, 372, 389, 392, 423 

Master as Substitute for Father, 
264, 440 

Maternal Complex, 210, 258, 273, 
311, 312, 331, 434, 468, 469, 
see also ffidipus Complex 

Maternal Hypnosis, 125 

Maternal Indulgence, see Indul- 
gence 

Maternal Instinct, thwarted, 
393-410 

Maternity, Refusal of, 179, 289 

Matiere et memoire, 59, 476 

Matter and Memory, 476 

Meat as Symbol, 176, 177 

Medications psvchologiques, 21, 
128, 140, 479 

Mediums, 74 

Meditative Life, 265 

Melancholy, 383 

Melting Snow as Symbol, 340 

Memory, see Reminiscence 

Memory Trace, 205, 468 

Mendes, 243, 251, 252 

Menstruation, irregular, 267, 
292, 293 

Mental Aberrations in an Epi- 
leptic, 367-376 

Mental Disorders, 350-376 

Mental Disorders of War, 481 

Mental Evolution in Animals, 
83, 483, 484 

Mer and Mere, 211 

Merciee, 370, 371, 481 

Merry-go-round as Symbol, 439 

Metaphysico-synthesis, 111 

Military Affairs as Symbol, 334, 
335 



INDEX 



497 



Mill, 25, 481 

Miller, 481 

Mind and Medicine, 3, 483 

Minor Epilepsy, see Epilepsy- 
Mirage as Symbol, 226, 228, 230 

Mischbildung, 36 

Mischperson, 41 

Mistakes, Dread of, 242, see also 
Scrupulosity 

Mixed Method, 121-143 

Mneme, 435, 437 

Moliere, 417, 419 

"Monde Medicale," 15, 482 

Money as Symbol, 262 

Monkey as Symbol, 249 

Mon oncle et mon cure, 197 

Monster as Symbol, 363, 365 

Montesquieu, 11 

Moral Guidance, 142 

Moral Kebuff, 294, 311 

Morel, 160, 481 

Morton Prince, 475 

Mother as Symbol, 319 

Mother-Fixation, see Fixation 

Motherhood — 

Instinct for, see Instinct 
Longing for, 292, 293, 344, 452 
Refusal of, 268, 284-291 

Mountain as Symbol, 391 

MouRGUE, 60, 481 

Mourning as Symbol, 200 

Miiller, 26 

MUNSTERBERG, 26, 481 

Muscular Sense, see Kinsesthesia 

Music — 

Taste for, 379-382, 422 
Therapeutic Value of, 382 

Mute as Symbol, 454 

Mysticism, 321, 332 

Mystique moderne, 4, 478 

Nancy School, 17, 128, 133, 136, 

141 
New, 14, 17, 123, 128, 134, 141 
Narcissism, 186, 199, 468 
Narcissus, 186, 199 
Neologisms, 424 
Nervous Disorder, 377 
Nervous Disorders, typical, 294- 

349 
Nervous Excitability, 382, 417 
Nervous Shock, 383 



Nervous Temperament, 321 
Nervous Uneasiness, 340 
Nervousness, see Neurosis 
Neuralgia, 54, 135, 352-361 
Neurasthenia, 110, 294, 322, 417, 

423, 437, 442 
Neurasthenic Ideas, 340, 344 
"Neurologisches Zentralblatt," 

476 
Neuropath, 18, 19, 105, 106, 379 

potential, 295 
Neuropathic Animal, Man as, 19 
Neurosis, 19, 50, 56, 86, 105, 110, 
118, 123, 124. 126, 131, 132, 
133, 148, 343, 378, 382, 469 
Anxiety, 15, 298, 461 
artificial Hypnotisra as, 123 
collective, 106 
of Self-Preservation, 118 
Peace, 115 
Sexual, 118 
Transference, 103 
War, 115, 118 
'Neurotic Constitution, 104, 106, 

219, 475 
New Psychology and its Relation 

to Life, 3, 484 
New Psychology and the Teacher, 

481 
New School, 184 

Nietzsche, 4, 104, 106, 112, 387 
Night out, 215 

Nightmare, 77, 147, 149, 150, 
151, 152, 153, 157, 165, 279, 
319, 352, 358, 359, 391, 392, 
394, 398 
Nilakantha, 433 
Non-Affectivity, 60 
Non-Entity, 246 

Nouvelles observations sur un 
cas de Somnamhulisme, 74, 
478 
Nudity, 261 
Numbers, 399, 400, 401, 402 

Objectivation, 94 

Obliteration of outer World, 324 

Oblong Things as Symbol, 403, 

452 
Obsession, 362-367, 423 
Obsessions et la psychasth4nie, 

56, 479 



498 



INDEX 



Odiee, 125, 126, 361, 481 

(Edipus Complex, 214, 219, 220, 
221, 238, 240, 296, 299, 302, 
303, 305, 320, 327, 390, 464, 
465, 468, 469, see also Hos- 
tility to Father and Ma- 
ternal Complex 

Official Psychology, see Psychol- 
ogy of the Schools 

Ohnet, 407 

Opera-Glasses as Symbol, 292 

Optimism, 269 

Oraculo Manual y Arte de Pru- 
dencia, 260 

Orientation, 119, 459 

Origin of Species, 99 

Origin of Species, 4:11 

Ostade, 336 

Outcropping of the Subconscious, 
61, 466, 469 

Outline of Psychology, 3, 475 

Over-determination, 38, 469 
Law of, 52 

Overwork, 294 



Painting, automatic, 383 

Paleontology, psychic, 100 

Palmer, 476 

Pansexualism, 152, 241, 266 

Pantheism, 246, 321 

Papers on Psychoanalysis, 115, 

461, 480 
Papillons, 278, 281 
Paralysies hysteriques, 32, 478 
Paralysis, 50, 360, 449 
Parentage — 

common biological, of differ- 
ent affective States, 87 
common instinctive, of Affects, 

96 
Parental Complex, 124, see also 

Fixation 
Parish Priest as Substitute for 

Father, 341, 342 
Parish Priest as Symbol, 340, 

341, 343 
Pascal, 5, 39, 40, 62 
Pasha, tailed, as Symbol, 208, 

209 
Passionate Friendship, 196 
Passivity, 397 



Paternal Complex, 349, 464, 469, 

see also Electra Complex 
Paternal Hypnosis, 125 
Paternal Injustice, 303 
Path as Symbol, 269 
Pathological Method, 16 
Paul, E. and C, 3, 475, 480, 

482, 483 
Paul, N. M., 476 
Paulhan, 93, 482 
Payne, 482 
Peace Neurosis, 115 
Pent-Tip Action, see Action, pent- 
up 
Peopling the Unconscious with 

Shadows, 3 
Perception, 59, 60, 61 

internal, 266 
Pereelet, see Aetus-Perbelet 
Persecution Complex, 351, 461, 
464, 469, see also Persecu- 
tion, Ideas of 
Persecution, Ideas of, 284, 350, 

355-361, 464 
Perseus, 445 

Personalism in Keligion, 321 
Perversion, sexual, 18, 85, 86, 

323, 327 
Pessimism, 245, 255 
Petit Mai, see Epilepsy 
Pfistee, 64, 92. 127, 128, 148, 

476, 482 
Phantom Ship as Symbol, 226, 

228 
Philippe II, 98 
Philosophic Trend, 242-265 
Philosophie, 483 
Phobia — 

see also Dread and Fear 
of Buttons, 364 
of confined Places, see Claus- 
trophobia 
of Dress-Hooks, 364 
of Water, 363 
Phobias, 384, 385 

defined, 470 
Phosphenes, 58 
PiEECE Clark, 352, 477 
Pi6ron, 21, 83, 482 
Pig as Symbol, 336, 337 
Pilzecker, 26 
Pink Paint as Symbol, 437 



INDEX 



499 



Pins and Needles, 65 

Plastic Arts, 387 

Plato, 37, 103 

Platonic Passions, 191 

Play, 12, 73-76 

and Dreaming, 12, 73-76 
as Outlet for unutilised Tend- 
encies, 12 
in Education, 73 
Theory of Dreams, 73 

Play of Animals, 479 

Play of Man, 479 

Pleasure — 

forbidden, 149, 157, 158, 165, 

180, 211, 397 
Principle, 106, 109 

Plebs League, 3, 475 

Poetic Creation, 67 

Poetry, favourite, reveals Com- 
plexes, 170 

Pointed Hat as Symbol, 386 

Pointed Objects as Symbols, 166 

Pomegranate Syrup as Symbol, 
438, 439 

"Popular Science Magazine," 484 

Porker as Symbol, 336, 337, 339 

Post-chaise as Symbol, 193 

Pour lire au hain, 251 

Power Principle, 106, 109 

Predisposition, 294, 359 

Pregnancy, 48, 49, 266, 282-293 

Priest, see Parish Priest 

Primitive Man, 70 

Pbince, 475 

Prince Charming, 176 

Principles, guiding, of the pres- 
ent Work, 10-21 

Principles of Psychology, 83, 88, 
479 

Privy as Symbol, 256 

Proczek, 191, 482 

Profession, Choice of, 322 

Prognathism as Symbol, 402 

Progressive Tendency, see Tend- 
ency 

Projector as Symbol, 418, 419 

Promotions, 418, 419 

Prophetic Dreams, 196 

Prosecution of Baudouin for 
Magic, 42 

Protest- 
masculine, 268, 286 



Protest ( Cont. ) 

Woman's, against Man, 404 
Protest against Sexuality, 399 
Protest against the Environ- 
ment, 351 
Protest against the Father, 51, 

148, 182, 186-189, 242, 299, 

307, 309, 310, 326, 351, 375, 

399, 405, 407 
Protest against the Step-Mother, 

410-420 
Protest against Virility, 250 
Protestantism and Catholicism, 

213, 214 
Provencal as Symbol, 336, 337 
Prussian Discipline, 263 
Pseudo-Reminiscence, 325, 326 
Psychanalyse, 101, 103, 104, 112, 

114, 122, 137, 477, 479 
Psychanalyse au service des edu- 

cateurs, 128, 476, 482 
Psychanalyse et Veducation, 9, 

476 
Psychanalytische Methods, 482 
Psychasthenia, 321-339 
"Psyche and Eros," 475 
Psychoanalyse des nevroses et 

des psychoses, 1, 482 
Psychoanalyse et mysticisme, 

143, 477 
Psychoanalyse und Associations- 
experiment, 53, 480 
Psychoanalysis — 

and ordinary Psychology, 4 
and Suggestion, 14, 121-143 
as Method and as Doctrine, 8 
as Re-education, 13 
culminates in evolutionary 

Theory of Instinct, 12, 13 
defined, 470 
of the Schools, 6 
Prejudice against, 21 
two Categories of, 1-10, 96 
Psychoanalysis and ^Esthetics, 

305, 318, 476 
Psychoanalysis and Compulsion 

Neurosis, 71, 479 
Psychoanalysis and Sociology, 

100, 480 
Psychoanalysis in the Service of 

Education, 482 



500 



INDEX 



Psychoanalysts — ■ 
fanatical, 3, 15 

Prejudice of, against Sugges- 
tion, 16, 123 
Psychoanalytic Method, 482 
"Psychoanalytic Eeview," 477, 

480, 483 
Psychoanalytic Theory of Dream, 

11, 34, 67-82 
Psychological Principles, 91, 484 
Psychologic de Venfant, 73, 477 
Psychologic des sentiments, 77, 

483 
Psychologic du raisonnement, 29, 

59, 483 
Psychologic frangaise contem- 

poraine, 28, 478 
"Psychologische Abhandlungen," 

480, 484 
Psychologische Typen, 109, 480 
Psychology — 

functional versus structural, 

6, 7, 8 
new, 8 

normal. Study of, 20 
of the Schools, 20, 29 
pathological Study of, 20 
structural versus functional, 

6, 7, 8 
Psychology of Day-Dreams, 484 
Psychology of Insanity, 350, 479 
Psychology of Marriage, 3, 479 
Psychology of Emotions, 483 
Psychology of the Unconscious, 

70, 102, 108, 480 
Psychoneuroses of War and 

Peace, 115, 477 
Psychoneurosis, 124 
Psychosis, 110 
Psychotherapy, 130 
Purification, Desire for, 336, 337, 

338, 339, 365 
Purity, Desire for, 369 
Pursuit as Symbol, 358 
Pythagoras, 399, 401, 402 

Quarter, Latin, 214, 216 

Rabelais, 338 

Rape, Ideas of, 351, 362-367 
Rapport au Congres de Londres, 
21, 479 



Rationalisation, 134, 285, 351, 

466, 470 
Real, Adaptation to, 11, 73 
Reality — 

Maladaptation to, 306, 321, 

325 
Principle, 106 
Renunciation of, 327, 417 
sexual, 306 
Recognition, false, 326 
Red Leg as Symbol, 208, 209, 

217 
Red Riding Hood, 257 
Re-education, Psychoanalysis ils, 

16, 447 
Regis, 1, 2, 53, 454, 479, 482 
Regression, 56, 57, 62, 70, 94, 
124, 159, 160, 165, 171, 172, 
185, 470, see also Fixation, 
infantile 
Regret after sexual Act, 248 
Regulus, 313, 314, 317, 344, 348 
Religious and social Calling in- 
spired by Cult of Father, 
221-230 
Religious Mania, 367-376 
Reminiscence — 

earliest, as Index of Character, 

396 
Pseudo-, 326 
Renon, 15, 482 
Renunciation of Life, 246 
Representation defined, 470 
Repression, 3, 35, 68, 78, 79, 81, 
82, 93, 118, 126, 133, 135, 
138, 150, 154, 240, 267, 268, 
269, 289, 309, 310, 312, 327, 
356, 358, 372, 384, 402, 404, 
462, 470, see also Repression 
of Sexuality 
of Instinct, 1*17, 221, 240, 265, 

see also Suppression 
not necessarily unwholesome, 

192 
of Sexuality, 240, 327, 338, 
339, 390, see also Repression 
of Sublimated Instinct, 255, 

418 
of Virility, 242-265, 320 
Repression of War Experiences, 
15, 483 



INDEX 



501 



Repugnance — 
for Housework, 354, 359 
for Sexuality, 357, 359, see 
also Sexuality, Disgust in- 
spired by 
for Vulgarity, 359 

Eesemblance by Contrast, 151 

Resistance, 200, 470 
to Sexuality, 248 
to Temptation, 370 

Restlessness, 340 

Resurrection as Symbol, 271, 
319, 320 

Retreat as Symbol, 273 

Return to native City as Sym- 
bol, 453 

Reverie, 11, 55, 61, 67, 321, 457, 
see also Day-Dream 

Reversal of Transference, 205 

Revolt against Leaders as Sym- 
bol, 373 

"Revue de I'Epoque," 483 

"Revue de Philosophie," 477 

"Revue de Theologie et Philoso- 
phie," 476 

Rhine Gold, 186, 324, 435 

RiBOT, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 
34, 45, 52, 70, 71, 77, 90, 
472, 482, 483 

Richter, 257 

RiGNANO, 29, 54, 59, 483 

Rivers, 3, 10, 13, 70, 82, 115, 
482, 483 

Riviere, 478 

Road as Symbol, 270, 278, 372 

Rochefoucauld, 106 

Rock as Symbol, 372, 391, 392 

Roland un Symhole, 375, 484 

RoLLAND, 83, 217, 483 

Rolled Wall Maps as Symbols, 
193, 194 

Roman Road as Symbol, 277 

Romanes, 83, 90, 483, 484 

Rostand, 429, 430 

Running away as Symbol, 395 

Russell, 3, 483 

Rustic Accent, see Vulgarity 

Ruth, 120 

Rynee, 18, 251, 483 

Sadism, 85, 468, 471 
Sado-Masochism^ 85 



Saint Georges, 318 
Saint Vitus's Dance, 212 
Salpetriere School, 17, 121, 123, 

129, 141 
Salvation Army, 116 
Savant as Symbol, 310 
Scales as Symbol, 315 
SCHEENER, 269, 483 
Schneitee, 70, 483 
Scholastics, 19 
Schoolboy's Feelings about 

School, 181-186 
School Essays analysed, 147, 

181-186, 186-189 
Schopenhauer, 117, 243, 244, 245, 

246, 250, 253, 255, 256, 258, 

260, 261, 262 
"Scientia," 475 
Scripture, 26 
Scrupulosity, 231-242 
Scythe, Man with, as Symbol, 

184 
Sea as Symbol of Introversion, 

211 
Seagull with clipped Wing as 

Symbol, 324 
Sea-sickness as Symbol, 226, 227 
Search for Guide, see Guide 
Seclusive Tendency, see Tend- 
ency, seclusive 
Sedobrol, 367 
Self-Assurance, 381 
Self-Examination, 296 
Self-Mastenj hy Conscious Auto* 

suggestion, 477 
Self-Mastery by Subject, the 

Aim of Psychoanalysis, 421, 

422, 448, 456, 458 
Self-Preservation, Neurosis of, 

118 
Seneca, 251 
Sensualists, 25 
Sentiment, 54 
conjugal, 98 
filial, 98 
Sentiment filial et la religion, 

375, 476 
Severity, paternal, 182, 188 
Sexual Act — 

childish impressions of, 390 
Regret after, 248 
Sexual Desire, 322, 323 



502 



INDEX 



Sexual Instinct, see Instinct, 

Sexual 
Sexual Neurosis, 118 
Sexual Reality, 306 
Sexual Shock at Puberty, 383- 

387 
Sexuality, 85, 336 
Acceptance of, 248 
Disgust inspired by, 165, 256, 
289, 357, 359, 385, 390, 397, 
398 
Fear of, 165, 219 
Pore sbado wings of, in Chil- 
dren, 147, 164, 165, 166, 177 
independent of reproductive 

Instinct, 103 
Infantile, 177, 219 
initiation into, 322 
latent, in Dreams, 180 
moralised, 318 
Protest against, 399 
Refusal of, 287, 288, 295, 404 
Repugnance for, 357, 359 
Resistance to, 248 
Sexualtrieb, 103, 109 
Shame, 153, 154, 164, 234, 236, 

242 
Shamefacedness, 242 
Shameful Act, 238 
Shock, sexual, at Puberty, 383- 

387 
Shooting, 243 

as Symbol, 248 
Shunning the World, 219, 220, 
325, 365, 450, 460, see also 
Introversion 
Shutters as Symbol, 274, 275 
Shyness, 181-186 
Siding with Mother, 326 
Similarity, see Association 

Law of, 25, 28, 32 
Simple Life, 244 
Sin, 371, 373, 375, 391 
Singer at Cafe chantant as Sym- 
bol, 441, 442 
Singing as Symbol, 245 
Sleeplessness, 245, 423 
Slips of Memory, 50, 130, 515 
Slug as Symbol, 167 
Sluggishness of Intellection, 367 
Smell, Delusion concerning, 351, 
362-367 



Smoking as symbolic Protest, 

297, 299 
Snake as Symbol, 228, 315, 316, 

317 
Snow, melting, as Symbol, 340, 

345 
Snowdrop, 258 
Snow-White, 258 
Soap as Symbol, 180 
Social Instincts, Repudiation of, 

365 
Socialists as Symbol, 443 
Society of Jesus, 116 
Socrates, 429 

Soldier as Symbol, 269, 270, 358 
Solitude, Fear of, 362 
Somnambulism, 136, 141 
Song of Songs, 81 
Soteriou, 422, 423, 425, 426, 427, 

429, 430, 432, 434, 435 
Spain as Symbol, 215 
Spalding, 83, 484 
Spasm of Anguish, 238, 239 
Spasm of Eyelid, 295, 339-349 
Spiele der Menschen, 73, 479 
Spiele der Tiere, 73, 479 
Spinoza, 77, 484 
Spirit and Flesh, 388 
Spiritualism and the New Psy- 
chology, 3, 463, 477 
Spit as Symbol, 291, 399 
Spitteler, 261, 278, 280, 281 
Spontaneity, 245, 265 
Sputum as Symbol, 291, 399 
Stammering, 379-387 
State of Conflict, 206-218 
Statues, animated, 173 
Stick as Symbol, 235, 236 
Stickiness *is Symbol, 166, 177, 

178 
Stones as Symbol, 391, 446, 447 
Stove-Pipe as Symbol, 49, 283 
Studien iiher Hysterie, 476, 478 
Studies in Dreams, 475 
Studies in Word Association, 

476, 480 
Stylate Plants as Symbol, 385 
Subconscious — 
defined, 471 
Rebellion of, against conscious 

Control, 300 



INDEX 



503 



Sublimated Instinct, Eepression 

of, 255, 418 
Sublimation, 86, 95, 106, 117, 
120, 206, 207, 255, 337, 343, 
352, 367, 377-420, 422, 430, 
464, 471 
sesthetic, 382, 383-387, 409, 

410-420 
in Danger, 388-392 
moral, 450 

of Idea of Guide, 448-460 
philosophical, 450 
religious, 221-230, 388, 410- 

420, 450 
social, 221-230, 409, 418, 443, 

^^50 
vacillating, 206-218, 378, 393- 
410 
Substitute for Father — 
Apprentice as, 265 
Brother as, 316, 327, 374, 451 
Chief Clerk as, 232, 382 
'Councillors, federal, as, 373 
Federal Councillors as, 373 
Head Clerk, 232, 382 
Leaders as, 373 
Master as, 265, 440 
Parish Priest, 341 
Uncle as, 299 
Suffocation Dream, see Dream 
Sugar-Loaf Hat as Symbol, 386 
Suggester, Prejudice of, against 

Psychoanalysis, 16 
Suggestibility, 139, 205, 472 
Suggestion, 117, 284, 296, 339, 
347, 349, 354, 370, 410, 422, 
450, 453, 472, see also Auto- 
suggestion 
Suggestion and Autosuggestion, 
15, 50, 60, 61, 79, 88, 128, 
132, 203, 209, 262, 467, 471, 
475 
Suggestion and Psychoanalysis, 

15, 16, 121-143 
Suggestion as Re-education, 16, 

447 
Suggestion — 
collective, 141 

general, versus particular, 134 
inevitable in Psychoanalysis, 
141 



Suggestion {Conf.) 

positive versus negative, 134 

post-hypnotic, 133 
Suicide, obsessive Ideas of, 298 
Summer-House as Symbol, 271, 

372 
Sunshine as Symbol, 227 
Superiority Complex, 472 
Suppression (Rivers), 82 

of Instinct, 87, 116 
Survey, general, 1-21 
Swashbuckler as Symbol, 265 
Swimming Lesson as Symbol, 

381 
Swinburne, 211 
Symbol defined, 472 
Symbol — 

Absinthe as, 363, 365 

Accident as, 150, 156, 157, 
396, 406 

Avenue as, 358 

Bag as, 336 

Bandaged Eyes as, 389, 391, 
392 

Bankruptcy, fraudulent as, 
326, 327, 329 

Basement Window as, 292 

Basket as, 241 

Bear as, 391, 392 

Bear Pit as, 389, 392 

Bearded Man as, 181, 182, 271 

Beasts, Sticky as, 166 

Bicycle as, 371 

Bicycle Wheels as, 241 

Black Dress as, 200 

Blood as, 302, 358 

Bog as, 174, 175 

Bolt as, 232, 241 

Brother, little as, 308, 310 

Brown as, 225, 226 

Brush as, 225, 226 

Burglar as, 235, 236, 237, 319, 
320 

Burying as, 372 

Bushy Trees as, 358 

Butcher's Shop as, 176, 177 

Cafe as, 175, 176, 177 

Canary as, 244, 246 

Caterpillar, 168 

Cellar as, 181, 185 

Certain Age, Woman of, 348 

Chain as, 217 



504 



INDEX 



Symbol {Conf.) 
Change of Beds as, 389 
Child as, 309, 318, 344 
Chimney-Sweep as, 50, 63, 283 
Cleaning as, 349 
Cliffs as, 228 
Cooperative as, 447 
Crisis, mental and nervous as, 

383, 385, 386 
Crookedness as, 326 
Cupboard as, 445 
Dagger as, 357 
Dancing as, 208, 209, 212, 218 
Death as, 175 
Defilement as, 234, 236 
Deformed Creature as, 366 
Demon as, 309, 310, 316, 318 
Dervish, Dancing as, 217 
Descent into Earth as, 172 
Devil as, 208, 209, 212, 316 
Dirty Food as, 409 
Dirty Passages as, 457 
Dirty Snow as, 341 
Dirty Underlinen as, 301, 341, 

349 
Dirty Water as, 340, 349 
Dog as, 167, 209, 212 
Doing-up Room as, 348, 349 
Door as, 287, 288, 289 
Dragon as, 207, 208, 209 
Driver as, 441, 451, 454 
Drunken People as, 226, 227 
Earth, Descent into, 172 
Engine Headlights as, 312, 314, 

317 
Evening as, 278 
Exhumation as, 372 
Expectoration as, 291, 399 
Exploring as, 395, 406 
Explosion as, 180 
Falling as, 234, 391 
Father as, 249, 320, 373, 438 
Fire as, 444 
Frog as, 184, 185 
German Spies as, 309, 310 
Goblin as, 212 
Grey Clothing as, 270, 271, 

273, 454 
Grimacing old Women as, 298, 

299, 306 
Gymnastics as, 213, 381 



Symbol {Conf.) 

Hat, pointed, as, 386 

Hat, tall, as, 373 

Headlights of Engine, 312, 

314, 317 
Hiding as, 237, 380 
Hoarseness as, 398, 399 
Inland as, 211 
Italian as, 336, 337 
Jumping as, 372 
Justice, Statue of, 389, 392 
Kaiser as, 309, 310 
Knife as, 398 
Lamp as, 180 
Leaders, Revolt against, as, 

374 
Leg, red, as, 208, 209, 217 
Leviathan as, 208 
Lice as, 286, 289 
Life as, 445 
Lizard as, 184 
Lorgnette as, 399, 401 
Marionette as, 280 
Meat as, 176, 177 
Melting Snow as, 340 
Merry-go-round as, 439 
Military Affairs as, 334, 335 
Money as, 262 
Monkey as, 249 
Monster as, 363 
Mother as, 319 
Mountain as, 391 
Mourning as, 200 
Mute as, 454 

Oblong things as, 403, 452 
Opera-Glasses as, 292 
Parish Priest as, 340, 341, 342 
Pasha, tailed, as, 209 
Path as, 269 

Phantom Ship as, 226, 228 
Pig as, 336, 337 
Pink Paint as, 437 
Pointed Hat as, 386 
Pointed Objects as, 166 
Pomegranate Syrup as, 438, 

439 
Porker as, 336, 337, 339 
Post-Chaise as, 193 
Privy as, 256 
Prognathism as, 402 
Projector as, 445 
Provencal as, 336, 337 



INDEX 



505 



Symbol (Cont.) 
Pursuit as, 358 
Eed Leg as, 208, 209, 217 
Eejuvenation as, 344, 348 
Eesurrection as, 271, 319, 320 
Eetreat as, 273 
Eeturn to native City as, 453 
Eevolt against Leaders as, 373 
Eoad as, 270, 278, 372 
Eock as, 372, 391, 392 
Eolled Wall Maps as, 193, 194 
Eoman Eoad as, 277 
Eunning away as, 395 
Savant as, 310 
Scales as, 315 

Scythe, Man with, as, 184, 185 
Sea as, 211 
Seagull with clipped Wing, 

324 
Sea-Siekness as, 226, 227 
Shooting as, 248 
Shutters as, 274, 275 
Singer at Cafe chantant as, 

441, 442 
Singing as, 245 
Slug as, 167 
Smoking as, 297, 299 
Snake as, 228, 316, 317 
Snow, melting, as, 340, 345 
Soap as, 180 
Socialists as, 443 
Soldier as, 269, 270, 358 
Spain as, 215 
Spit as, 291, 399 
Sputum as, 291, 399 
Stick as, 235, 236 
Stickiness as, 166, 177, 178 
Stones as, 391, 446, 447 
Stove-Pipe as, 49, 283 
Stylate Plants as, 385 
Sugar-Loaf Hat as, 386 
Sununer-House as, 371, 372 
Sunshine as, 227 
Swashbuckler as, 265 
Swimming Lesson as, 381 
Tall Hat as, 373 
Tearing as, 236 
Terror as, 359 
Toad as, 166, 177, 185 
Tools as, 398 

Topsy-Turvyness as, 348, 349 
Trees as, 358, 385, 386 



Symbol {Cont.) 

Truncation as, 400, 402, 403 
Unhooking as, 445, 446 
Vulgarity of Accent as, 356 
Wall, crumbling, as, 275, 276 
Wallets as, 336 
Wasp as, 451 
Water, dirty, as, 340, 349 
Water-Closet as, 457 
Water-Tubs as, 363, 396, 397, 

398 
Weapon as, 358 
Wedding-Eing, Loss of, as, 394 
White Dress as, 202 
White of Egg as, 178, 398, 399 
Wind as, 275, 278 
Witch as, 298, 305 
Wolf as, 167, 177, 179, 257 
Wool- Work as, 271, 273 
Worm as, 167 
Wraith as, 273 
Symhole eJiez YerJiaeren, 475 
Symbolisation, 98, 472 
as general Law of Imagina- 
tion, 10, -268, 472 
Symbolism, 10, 27, 28, 61-66, 67, 
77, 80, 98, 99, 105, 108, 160, 
166, 195, 213, 214, 241, 268, 
280, 350, 379, 380, 392, 424, 
472 
Symholisme dans les reves des 

adolescents, 191, 481 
Symbols — 
collective, 62, 69, 160, 462, 

472 
organic (Schemer), 269 
Synthesis — 
Freud's, 111 
Jung's, 110 

possible, of Freud's Views and 
Adler's, 111 
Syphilophobia, 394 
Systemisation of Contrast, 152 
Systematised Delusion, 353, 472 

Tagore, 217 

Taine, 27 

Taking Father's Place, 318 

Talent, 91 

Talks to Teachers, 85, 479 

Tall Hat as Symbol, 373 

Tannhauser, 446 



506 



INDEX 



Tansley, 3, 468, 484 
Tearing as Symbol, 236 
Teleology, 70, see also Finalism 
subconscious, Law of, 133, 134, 
135 472 
Tell, William, 374 
Temperament, nervous, 196 
Temptation — 

Resistance to, 370 
Woman as, 368 
Tendencies — 
Control of, 132 
Evolution of, 12, 97 
Genealogy of, 96-120 
primitive, and derived or ac- 
quired, 91 
Tendency, 77-82, 90-94, 113 
homosexual, see Homosexual- 

ity 
progressive, 159, 163, 165, 168, 
169, 171, 172, 173, 176, 180, 
185, see also Extroversion 
regressive, see Regression 
seclusive (MacCurdy), 118 
sexual, 165 
thwarted, 78-81, 126 
Teno-Synovitis, 449 
Terror as Symbol, 359 
Texthook of Insanity, 371, 481 
Theoretical Exposition, 23-43 
Theorie hiologique du sommeil, 

74, 477 
Theosophy, 402 
Theresa^s Shift, 253, 255 
Thorndike, 83, 89, 484 
Thought, affective, 44 
Three Contributions to the The- 
ory of Sex, 478 
Threshold of Consciousness, 202 
Thule, 198 

Thwarted Instinct, 377 
Thwarted maternal Instinct, 393- 

410 
Thwarted Tendency, 78-81 
Tic, 32, 50 
Timidity, 118, 181, 219, 231-242, 

304, 321, 323, 328 
Timidity and undue Scrupu- 
losity, 231-242 
Tire-Jarret, 41 

Toad as Symbol, 166, 177, 185 
Tolstoy, 396, 419, 420 



Tools as Symbol, 398 
Topsy-Turvyness as Symbol, 348, 

349 
Tragedy, Origin of, 387 
Traite des sensations, 447 
Transference — 

affective, 150, 168, 232, 382, 

451, 472 
affective, on to the Analyst, 
117, 125, 139, 140, 141, 142, 
143, 251, 320, 366, 421, 423, 
424, 426, 427, 430, 432, 433, 
440, 454, 455, 464, 472 
affective, on to the Confessor, 

143 
affective, on to the Director, 

139, 143 
affective, on to the Hypnotiser, 

125, 139-143 
affective, on to the Suggester, 

125, 139-143 
by Contiguity, 30, 32 
by Contrast, 153 
by Similarity, 30, 32 
defined, 472 
Law of, 52 
Neuroses, 103 
of Affect, 30, 31, 32, 46, 47, 

48, 52, 64, 65 
Reversal of, 205 
Transformation of Instinct, 83, 

85, 87, 88, 93, 101 
Transformations sociales des sen- 
timents, 93, 482 
Transitoriness, Law of, 83, 84 
Traumdeutung, 2, 3, 36, 41, 56, 

62, 64, 68, 74, 78, 478 
Trees as Symbol, 358, 385, 386 
Trend, philosophic, 242-265 
Triumph of Time, 211 
Troubles mentaux de guerre, J 15, 

481 
Troubles mentaux et nerveux de 

guerre, 118, 477 
Truncation as Symbol, 400, 402, 

403 
Tub, see Water-Tub 
Tuberculose pulmonaire chron- 

ique, 15, 482 
Tuberculosis, 266, 268-282, 294 
Twilit States, 60 
Two Voices, 262 



INDEX 



507 



TJeher das Gedachtniss, 478 

TJeber den nervosen Charakter, 
104, 105, 219, 475 

JJeber den psychischen Mechanis- 
mus hysterischer Phanomene^ 
476 

Ueberdeterminierung, 38 

TJeher die Bedeutung von Asso- 
ziationsversucTiung, 52, 476 

TJeher die Psychogenese eines 
Falles von weihilcher Homo- 
sexualitat, 86, 478 

TJeher Psychoanalyse, 478 

Uebertragungsneurosis, 103 

Umfrid, 42-44 

Unbefangenheit, 260 

Uncle as Substitute for Father, 
297 

Unconscious — 
see Subconscious 
collective, 100, 160, 166, 198, 
209, 462 

Undirected Thinking, 465 

Une mystique moderne, 4, 478 

Unhooking as Symbol, 445, 446 

Uniform Complex, 223 

Unrat, 42-44 

Unreality, Feeling of, 325, 326 

TJpon the 8ignificam,ce of Asso- 
ciation Experiments, 476 

Utilitarian Character of Con- 
sciousness, 59, 61 



Vacillating Sublimation, 206- 

218, 393-410 
Vade retro, 126, 134 
Vabendonck, 484 
Vengeance upon the Father, 317, 

318 
Veni Creator, 134 
Verdichtung, 34, 36, 51 
Verhaeren, 98, 305, 318 
Verlaine, 214 

Verschiebung, 32, 45, 52, 473 
Vertigo, 295, 298, 314, 316, 317 
Vie de Beethoven, 217 
Vienna School, 471 
Virgin Mary, Cult of, 220, 332 
Virginity, Fantasy of, 419 
Virile Character Traits in a 

Woman, 228, 393, 395, 399 



Virility — 

Acquirement of, 434 
budding, 190, 192-195, 211 
Reconquest of, 373, 381, 443, 

444 
Refusal of, 51, 221, 249, 265, 

327, 328, 330, 331, 373 
Repression of, 242-265, 375 
Search for, 438 
Vishnu, 437 

Vital Impetus, see Impetus, vital 
VoDOZ, 375, 484 
Voluptuous (sexual) Sensations, 

234 
Vulgarity of Accent as Symbol, 

356 
Vulgarity, Repugnance for, 359 



Wall, crumbling, as Symbol, 275, 

276 
Wallets as Symbol, 336 
Wandlungen und Symhole der 

Lihido, 70, 102, 108, 480 
War Neuroses, 115, 481 
War Neurosis, 115, 118 
War Shock, 115, 478 
War Shock and Freud's Theory 

of the Neuroses, 115 
Ward, 91, 484 
Was hietet die Psychanalyse dem 

Erzieher? 64, 482 
Wasp as Symbol, 451 
Water, dirty, as Symbol, 340, 

349 
Water-Closet as Symbol, 457 
Water-Tubs as Symbols, 363, 

396, 397, 398 
Weapon as Symbol, 358, see also 

Dagger, Knife, etc. 
Wedding-Ring, Loss of, as Sym- 
bol, 394 
White Dress as Symbol, 202 
White of Egg as Symbol, 178, 

398 399 
White-Slave Traffic, 354, 357 
Will-to-Power, 104, 105, 106, 

107, 208, 220 
William Tell, 374 
Wind as Symbol, 275, 278 
Wise-Woman, 336 
Wish, 77 



508 



Wish (Cont.) 

FuljQlment, 54, 77, 155, 156, 

185, 201, 240, 293 
secret, 315 
Witch as Symbol, 299, 305 
Wolf and seven little Kids, 257 
Wolf as Symbol, 167, 177, 179, 

257 
Women as eternally Crucified, 

459 
Womb, Fantasy of Return to, 

160, 165, 176, 182, 210, 220, 

246, 257, 258, 365, 390 
Wool-Work as Symbol, 271, 273 
World as Will and Idea, 259, 

260 
Worm as Symbol, 167 



INDEX ^' ,-T 

Wraith as Symbol, 273^"^ 
Wrist-Drop, 361 
Writing, automatic, 204, 383 
Wundt, 26 



ui 



Young Girl's Diary, 191, 475 
Young Girl's Passion for a 

Woman, 195-206 
Young Mouse, 169 

"Zeitschrift fur Psychologic," 

480 
Zenia X, 71, 479, 484 
Zur DynamiJc der Uehertragung, 

139 479 
Zurich School, 107, 471 



